


Green Warden

by kijwcream



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Relationship(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 71,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijwcream/pseuds/kijwcream
Summary: A telling of the canon Dragon Age: Origins story, with a male Surana and a Magi Origin. I purely wanted to write my own narrative of the Origins story for fun and testing my writing comprehension. I hope you all can enjoy. (For the sake of canon and immersion, I'm using dialogue from the game. Some of the lines are paraphrased.)





	1. The Harrowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your apprenticeship is over. You are sent into the Fade to defeat a demon, to prevail...or die.

The light from the outside world gleamed through the stained glass windows of the Circle Tower, illuminating my view of the ill-fated Harrowing chamber. The sounds of steel templar boots ascending the stone staircase followed me, a reminder that this was the point of no return. I’ve heard so much of the conjectures and surmising about the Harrowing that I thought it was a legend, but now I realize it couldn’t be more real. Despite all of that fear-mongering… I’m not as afraid as I thought I would be. The Harrowing is a test-- just a potentially fatal one. But practicing magic is already fatal in itself, so what is there really to worry about?

The first person I looked to in the chamber was First Enchanter Irving, watching me with his old, wizened eyes. Then I looked to Knight-Commander Greagoir, the model Templar in chief, staring at me with such a intensity that he could have burnt a hole through my body.

“‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,’ thus spoke the prophet of Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin,” Greagoir spoke, provoking the conception of my Harrowing. “Your magic is a gift, but it’s also a curse, for demons of the dream realm-- the Fade--seek to use you as a gateway to this world.”

I temporarily furrowed my brows at his words, which rang true but hurt nonetheless. Magic was a part of me, a font of occult power, but it was also a double-edged sword. I wanted to say that I never asked for this, but there was no room for complaining. Not when I’ve come this far, anyway.

“This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon armed with only your will,” Irving added, sauntering over to my front. “I’ve watched your development from your first day, Apprentice, and I can say for sure that your will is as potent as any magic you’ve learned here.”

“T-thank you, First Enchanter Irving,” I said through an unsteady voice. The praise felt significant coming from Irving, as I admired him the most out of anybody in the Circle. 

“Now…” Greagoir intruded. “The second option you can take is tranquility.”

“Is losing all your magic an option?” Irving took an opposing inflection, nearing protective. “No, I have faith that Samile will succeed.”

I was caught between Irving’s approval and Greagoir’s deterrents, leaving me with a jarring feeling that sunk to the pit of my stomach. Before they could go at each other’s throats and prolong my rising uneasiness, I spoke. “I’m ready.” 

“Know this, Apprentice, if you fail, we templars will perform our duty. You will die.” I’ve never heard Greagoir sound so appropriately grave. If I failed, the demon controlling the abomination of my body would wreak havoc among the Circle Tower. I had my reservations about the community, but I didn’t want to see anyone die. Especially not the young and unsuspecting apprentices that I resembled so long ago. I have no choice but to pass.

Both Irving and Greagoir directed me to a large, saucer-shaped goblet that stood in the middle of the room, filled with a familiar, unworldly blue liquid. Unusually, I could smell the concentrated scent of the liquid… but it didn’t really smell like anything. Nothing like anything in Ferelden.

“This is lyrium, the very essence of the magic and the gateway to the fade.” Greagoir confirmed my suspicions. I’ve only ever consumed lyrium in lesser portions, or the occasional dust, and even that was difficult for me. 

Irving gently pulled me aside by my shoulder, away from Greagoir’s perceptive eyes and ears. “The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire, as we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you and remember that the Fade is a realm of dreams. Spirits may rule it, but your own will is real.” I nodded, taking his words into strong consideration. 

“The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter.” I knew Irving’s coaching could only last for so long. “You are ready.”

I marched to the goblet, the shimmering and scent of the lyrium intensifying as I got closer to it. Once I approached it, I could hear the refined lyrium inside of it. It emitted a low hum, almost as if it was alive and beckoning me to come in contact with it. It got what it wanted, as I proceeded to cup my hands and settle them into the liquid. Once I came in contact, the liquid that covered my hands started to discharge a bright, blue flare that began to traverse my body. Instead of exploding, my body shut down. Or I hope it did.


	2. Inside The Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your apprenticeship is over. You are sent into the Fade to defeat a demon, to prevail...or die.

I expected to wake up in some sort of apocalyptic dreamscape, but the Fade was more bleaker than my preconceived thoughts. I stood on top of faded, brown cobblestone pavement that resembled dirt. The sky was filled with a dreary and sickly green, as well as a floating island with a black, ruined city placed upon it. The sight of it made me think back to entries concerning the Black City, the ruined metropolis that was apparently the seat of the Maker. Or at least, that’s what the entries told me. 

My body was adapting rather quickly to the Fade’s laws, as I could move with no difficulty-- or perhaps it was adapting to me. I remembered Irving’s words; the Fade relies on the dreamer’s willpower and thoughts to affirm itself. Assumably, I should be in my element here.

I explored the environment, not forgetting to put my best guard up. True to its’ nature, the realm was incredibly inconsistent. The landscape reflected the world and thoughts of its’ dreamers, but something went horribly wrong. Everything was coalesced and merged, representations of cultures blending into each other to create displeasing images. 

A narrow pathway with pillars and jagged pikes placed along its’ length was the only way forward, and at the end of it was a wispy orb. When I was in its’ view, a bolt of lightning emerged from its’ core. Instinctively, I placed my palms outward in its’ direction, placing a spell barrier around me. The barrier absorbed the bolt, making it dissipate out of existence. Countering the orb’s attack, I channeled the powers of the Fade between cupped hands, firing a bolt of arcane energy right back at it. Once it hit, the orb spiraled in the air before bursting into a light smoke. Hmm.

My first thought was that it was too easy, but then my second reinforced the fact that it was only the beginning. I hastened, dashing through malformed cobblestone valleys and the too frequent oddities of the realm. 

Something managed to make me stop running: the figure of a mouse on the ground in front of me.

“Someone else thrown to the wolves, as fresh and unprepared as ever,” the mouse spoke. The voice didn’t seem to come directly from the mouse, though. It seemed like it was in the air, or my mind. “It isn’t right that they do this, the templars. Not to you, me, anyone.”

I was hesitant, to say the least. “Um, I would agree. But right or not, I’ll succeed.”

The voice chuckled, doubting my efforts. “You say that now, so have many others before you. Look at me. Look at what can happen.” 

“You were a mage?”

“I was, once. It’s always the same, but it’s not your fault. You’re in the same boat I was, aren’t you?”

As soon as the voice ended it’s statement, a light engulfed the mouse’s form, expanding to a human figure. The light unveiled itself to reveal a human mage with pale skin, short, golden hair, and a warm-toned apprentice robe. “Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me… well, Mouse.” 

It was only slightly relieving to hear the voice come out of something I was familiar with. “A pleasure to meet you, Mouse. You took the Harrowing, I presume?”

Mouse placed a rubbing hand above his forehead, shutting his eyes. “It’s fuzzy, that time before. They wake you up in the middle of the night, and drag you into the Harrowing chamber. And then…” He neglected to speak. 

“I can’t say they treated me with the same brutality. I’m sorry, Mouse.” 

My apology only seemed to frustrate him more. “Oh, but it gets worse. The templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed and they don’t want something getting out. That’s what happened to me, I think.” He relaxed his breathing, seeming to soften his behavior, but I could tell he wasn’t going to calm any time soon. Whatever happened to him was still affecting him, long after his… failure. It seemed wrong to call it that after what he told me. 

“I have no body to reclaim, and you don’t have much time before you end up the same.”

“Then how can I make sure I keep it?”

“There’s something here, contained. Just for an apprentice like you.” Mouse spoke with a somber tone. “You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it. That’s your way out. Or your opponent’s if the templars wouldn’t kill you-- a test for you, a tease for the creatures of the Fade.”

“I don’t understand. Why would they pit apprentices against something so powerful?”

“A question for those in the Tower. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to ask. Maybe someday, so will I.” The last phrase was the first time I’ve heard ease in his voice, and I even felt a brief moment of hope for him.

“If there’s a way to right the wrongs of your Harrowing, I’d like to do anything I possibly can.”

“Thank you. There are others here-- other spirits. They’ll tell you more, they may even help. But I’d have to ask you to suspend your disbelief.”

“I’ll think about it.” The idea of getting closely involved with more than one spirit intimidated me. The Fade was still a realm of unpredictability, and I wasn’t eager to find a demon wrapped in spirit’s clothing.

“I’ll follow you, if that’s alright. My chance was long ago, but you… you may have a way out.” The same light that appeared earlier engulfed Mouse’s body, shrinking his figure back into an actual mouse’s. “The dangerous spirit is not far. Don’t go near it unless you’re ready to fight.”

“Alright.” I continued on, slowing down my speed to accommodate Mouse’s. 

After a few minutes worth of walking, I felt warmness coat the realm’s air. The hill to my right blocked my view of a circular alley, with large flames planted across its’ edges. Mouse squeaked before I could even approach it. “That’s where the test will take place. The creature can be anywhere, but it manifests there. Let’s keep moving.”

I kept my distance from the alley, taking the original pathway in front of it and going west. Deformed, dark green trees marked the changing landscape, as well as what I assume were steep grave markers or rocks. The path started to ascend, leading into a broader pathway on the right and a small alley filled with translucent weapon racks and a blazing anvil at its’ center. Obviously, I picked the small alley with the racks and blazing anvil.

“Another spirit this way,” Mouse announced. When I saw nothing, I tilted my head back at the mouse, wondering what he was seeing.

“Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see,” the spirit’s voice boomed, making me abruptly shake and take a few scared steps back. 

“Maker…” I said, catching my breath after said shock. Mouse squeaked accordingly, but said nothing. 

“Your mages have devised a cowardly test, better you were pitted against each other to prove your skill than to be sent unarmed against a demon.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t have a choice, unfortunately.”

“Indeed. The choice and the faults lie with the mages who sent you here. And you remain, which means you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come.”

Looking at the sorts of equipment around the spirit, I could infer that it must be their blacksmith. “Well, could you at least tell me what kind of spirit you are?”

“I am Valor, a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat.” He turns to his assortment of arms, motioning towards them. “These weapons are brought into being by my will. I understand that in your world, mages are the only ones who can do the same. Those that cannot must lead such empty lives.”

“For all the trouble it’s worth, I’m not sure an empty life sounds so bad.”

“Your power is befitting of something surpassing any mortal, be proud of this.” The spirit upheld my strength. For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve been told that what I’ve practiced was a curse. I was only receiving so much praise as I was nearing a mage, but perhaps if I were told of my value as a young apprentice, I wouldn’t be the reluctant person I am today. “In this realm, everything that exists is the expression of a thought, of your will. Do you think these blades be steel, the staves be wood? Do you believe they draw blood? A weapon is a single need for battle, and my will makes that need reality.” 

“If that is so, then I’d like to use one.” 

“Do you truly desire one of my arms? I will give one to you, if you agree to duel me first. Valor shall test your mettle as it should be tested.”

Just as Irving and Valor said, I am one of the only people in this world who can shape their will into something striking. Even if this was a demon hiding behind a spirit’s veil, they would have a considerable opponent. “It seems that you would prefer to kill me yourself.”

“How dare you accuse me! I am no demon preying upon mortals to steal their essence. I am a being of honor and valor, a warrior!”

“Then, please help me fight the demon.” 

“You border on the uncivil… but your will is strong. Very well, mortal. You’ve proved to me that you possess the strength to resist this demon.”

A staff materializes next to me, hovering off the ground. I clutch it with both hands, bringing it close to my chest and inspecting it. The entire staff was made of iron from the bottom up, the shaft being a straight pole that branched into two spiraling sections towards its’ peak. An orange jewel was placed into the peak, nestled between the spiral. “Thank you, Valor. You helped me realize my worth.”

“Go, prove your worth as you must, I’m confident you will succeed.” I bid Valor farewell, exiting the alley and moving onto the broad pathway.

“Good job, that could’ve been dangerous,” Mouse finally said. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “That could’ve been a demon.”

“I was only taking your advice,” I replied. 

“I’m aware, but don’t be naive. Just because everything is fine now doesn’t mean everything will be fine later.” The skepticism in his voice sobered me.


	3. Nearing Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your apprenticeship is over. You are sent into the Fade to defeat a demon, to prevail...or die.

“Mouse, hide or get cover!” I shouted, cautioning my new companion about the appearing orbs. 

Unlike my first time coming into contact with them, there were more than one. I flung bolts of energy at the small, but defiant spheres, the peak of my staff brimming with residual energy left from the spells. They attacked in groups, advancing towards me and assaulting me with their own bolts. I erected a barrier in between my attacks, warding off their efforts. A bolt that I wasn’t facing grazed my hip, sending a small shock throughout my body and making me dispel my barrier. I attempted to recover, diving over to a nearby hill to shield myself from the orbs’ persistence. 

“Are you alright?” Mouse asked, cowering along with me.

“Could be worse.” I gave myself a moment to breathe, leaning against the floor of the hill. I sighed, my body being absorbed by the nervous zest that came from the adrenaline of the encounter.

“I apologize for not being of any use, save for guiding. Hiding is my best talent now.”

“It’s not your fault, Mouse. I prefer doing things on my own anyway.” I tried my best to assuage his worries. Taking a deep breath, I waited for the orbs to come. “If only I could find some way to round them all with one spell…”

I took a mental inventory of my spells; Primal… Entropy… Spirit… Spirit. Not a Spell Shield or a Mind Blast but… Walking Bomb. I prepped the spell, focusing my spiritual will into my staff while five or six orbs rounded the hill, gravitating towards my presence. I shot up from my spot beneath the hill, firing a corrosive bolt towards an orb that could be considered the median of the group. I dove once more, avoiding the potential friendly fire. The sound of detonation rang in my ears after a few bolts passed over me. I waited for more… none. I stood from my spot again, peering over to what was left of the skirmish. There was nothing except the residue of my spell, and I couldn’t see any orbs beyond it. 

I fixed my staff through the back of my robe, placing it under the large belt that fastened it. I bent down, placed my hands on my knees, and breathed. 

“We shouldn’t linger here, apprentice. Time is still running out,” Mouse warned me, to my annoyance.

“I couldn’t be more aware.” I sounded more vexed than I would’ve liked, but I don’t think it would’ve mattered to him anyway. 

I slowly proceeded onto the broad pathway that seemed to come to an end, reaching another alley. What I saw resting at the end of the alley made my stomach turn, and ignited a rising fire through my cheeks. A large, fleshy mass resembling a bear slept a few feet away from me and Mouse, hopefully unalerted by our existence.

“Mmm… so… you are the mortal… being hunted… and the small one? Is he to be a snack for me?” A tired, incorporeal voice spoke.

Mouse regained his human form, appearing apprehensive towards the demon. 

“I don’t like this,” Mouse spoke, taking the words directly from my mouth. “He won’t help us. We should go.” 

The demon groaned, standing to face us. Its’ face was spoiled, bony spikes piercing through its’ chin and back. The eyes were black and sunken. “No matter. The demon will get you eventually… perhaps there will even be scraps left.”

“What do you know about it? I’ve only heard speculations thus far,” I asked, sounding more casual than how I really felt. 

“You… have… a very nice… staff.” The demon yawned. “Why do you need me? Go, use your weapon since you have… earned it. Be valorous.”

“He looks powerful… perhaps he could teach you to be like him?” Mouse suggested.

“Like me? You mean… teach the mortal to take this form? Why? Most mortals are attached to their forms… you on the other hand, little one, might be a better student. You’ve let go of the human form.”

“I-I don’t think I’d make a very good bear. How would I hide?”

“You could help me face the demon, Mouse. We need to face this fear, and hiding doesn’t solve anything.” I ignored the demon’s criticisms. 

“We? I have faced more in this place than you could imagine! Fear is… just one more thing. But, you’re right, hiding doesn’t help. I’m sorry, it’s… the Fade. It changes you.” Mouse appeared to be regretful, dialling back his anger. The sudden change of attitude unnerved me, but I didn’t take it for granted. “I’ll try to be a bear, if you’ll teach me.”

“That’s nice, but teaching… mmm… is so exhausting. Away with you, now.”

Mouse glanced at me with an expression that I could only read as “I told you so!”. “I told you he wasn’t going to help us.” 

Now, I was getting frustrated. I just wanted this test to be over and still have my body by the end of it. “Mouse wants to learn. Teach him.”

“If you wish to learn my form, little one, then I have a challenge for your friend. Answer three riddles correctly and I will teach you.” The demon spoke like one of my reluctant enchanters. “Fail, and I will devour you both.”

“The perfect ultimatum.” I blatantly filtered my anger through sarcasm.

“The decision is yours.”

“Well?” Mouse looked at me as if he was a child observing sweets through a glass window, waiting for my word.

“...I accept your challenge, Sloth.”

“Ah… this gets more and more promising. My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sands, tongues without people, and mountains without land. What am I?”

Tongues without people… mountains with land… what? My instinct was to think of something lifeless. What most of the subjects lacked made them lifeless and flat. Tongues without people… when you put face value onto the phrase, it sounds strange... what else could be construed as tongues? Ah! Languages. Seas with no water, coasts with no sands, languages, and mountains without land… lifeless… flat… a map. “A map?”

The bear sounded abnormally pleased, muttering to itself. “Correct… let’s move on. The second riddle: I’m rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you’ll use me well. What am I?”

I traced the words back to the Tower and First Enchanter Irving once I heard ‘wit’, but the touched and held phrase still confused me. What can you hold but not touch? Definitely not a staff, nor magic. Once again, I took the phrases with a grain of salt and looked at them subjectively. What have enchanters or templars told me to hold? My tongue? Wait… if you have wit, you’ll use me well…”Is it a tongue?” 

“Yes, your witty tongue. Fair enough.” The demon wasn’t amused anymore, but Mouse and I were. 

“I think you might be the smartest apprentice to take the Harrowing,” Mouse encouraged.

“That’s not true, I just... observe and think. That’s all. You’re also guiding me, you know.” There were plenty of mages in the Tower that deserved the accolades. Though I’m starting to realize my power, I’m still just one apprentice. 

“Often will I spin the tale, never will I charge a fee. I’ll amuse you an entire eve, but alas, you won’t remember me. What am I?”

Of course the demon would save the best riddle for last. My mind ran cold as I was effectively stumped, my mouth slightly agape as I mentally scrambled for theories. Spinning tales… no fees… entire eves… but you won’t remember me. “Um… a daydream?”

“Oh, so close, but not close enough. Like I promised, I will devour you both.” The demon slowly stood, preparing for a charge. Shit. 

“Mouse, I’d suggest you hide.” He did exactly so, shifting into his rodent form and scurrying off to somewhere safe. 

I locked eyes with demon, a void of blackness staring back into mine. I clutched my staff, pulling it out from under my belt all the while keeping my eyes on the spoiled, slothful figure. I subtly channeled my will into it, preparing a Weakness spell. Taking the first action, I quickly drew the staff towards the demon, attempting to drain it of its’ energy. To my surprise, the demon lost its’ nerve, the head of it dipping towards the ground. My efforts were cut short, however, as it knocked itself out of its’ trance and reeled its’ body back, charging towards me. I jutted the staff into the Fade’s floor, erecting an Arcane Shield spell to decrease the damage that the Weakness spell couldn’t. The demon’s impact shattered my shield, lifting me into the air and sending me plummetting into the hard, stone floor. 

I layed there, pain rushing through my body in waves. I tried to recover, using whatever stamina I had left to narrowly sit up. Through my enfeebled vision, I thought I could see the demon reeling back again, assumably planning to finish me off. No-- I’ve come too far. I’d rather die from my hunter than some demon that wasn’t even part of my task. I managed to stand, bending at my knees. Forming a cup with my hands, I shaped my will into a concentrated coldness. This time, I’d let him take the first action.

The demon barreled towards me once more, leading with one of its’ bony spikes. As it came ever closer, I placed my hands together by my palms and directed them towards it, releasing a cone-shaped stream of winter. The demon staggered, the cold stream significantly inhibiting its’ movement. The Weakness spell I casted earlier must have still taken effect. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I stumbled towards my staff that was displaced during my launch into the air. I decided to prepare my spell in advance, a spiritual energy replacing the coldness that lingered at the tip of my fingers. Picking up the staff, I drew it towards the staggered demon, a corrosive bolt firing out of its’ tip and striking the fleshy head. I heard a heartbeat-like pulse emit from the its’ brain, the counts getting quicker with every passing second. Once the audible pulsating stopped, the demon’s form erupted, a dark smoke obscuring the spot where it once was.


	4. Demon In Spirit's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your apprenticeship is over. You are sent into the Fade to defeat a demon, to prevail...or die.

“Like this? Am I bear now? It feels… heavy,” Mouse said, getting used to a new form that couldn’t allow him to hide. He took the appearance of a normal bear with black fur, slightly shorter than the demon’s form and not as unsightly. 

“Hmm. Close enough. Go, then, and defeat your demon… or whatever you intend to do. I grow weary of your mortal prattling,” the demon said. Whatever bad blood we had between us was gone now, I guess. I was appreciative of the idea that demons didn’t hold grudges. After the smoke from my spell disappeared, the demon just stood there, completely unaffected by my spell, at least physically. 

The demon shooed us away once more before we took off, going back through the pathway. “Mmm, I’ve taught the mouse not to insist on bothering me! I’m tired…” The demon spoke to itself as we left, lulling itself into the sleep we disturbed it out of. 

Coming from the broad pathway, we were able to find our way back to the main one connecting all the passages and alleys. Watching Mouse try to move in his new form was interesting, seeing him trip on his own feet and manage the weight in his footsteps. Far be it from a bear to be graceful, but he was the most ungraceful animal I’ve ever seen. All of this journeying with him made me a little attached, I think. 

“We’re ready now, I can feel it. I suggest going back to where the demon manifests itself,” Mouse spoke.

I shifted towards him, the pain from the last fight causing my body to ache. “Mouse… I promised you I’d help you get your body back. I still intend to do so.”

“No, I don’t matter. Getting your body back is more important. I was what once was, and you’re what is now.”

“Huh? Why the sudden hesitati-”

Multiple howls came from the pathway that I took from when I first arrived here. Translucent, shimmering wolves poured out of the entrance, sprinting towards us. Mouse ran ahead, blocking the animals from reaching me. I did what I could, placing a Heroic Offense spell on him. Normally I’d be the one charging to the front, but I was so wounded that I could barely control any aspect of the battlefield. I’d let Mouse do most of the heavy lifting for now, supporting him from the rear. He mauled, mangled, and mutilated the spectral wolves, making them disappear into a light smoke that resembled the orbs.

I heard a familiar low humming nearby, and smelled the empty, ethereal scent of lyrium alongside it. I was bewitched by it, leaving Mouse behind as I followed the source of the humming. I was lead back to the alley of flames, a lyrium vein fixed at its’ threshold. Tendrils made of a bright, blue light spiraled towards me, luring me like the refined lyrium in the Harrowing chamber. I reached out to the tendrils with one hand, making contact with it. The tendrils seeped into my skin, illuminating my veins and healing my wounds. The aching that bothered me a moment ago ceased to exist. Once the pain was gone, the tendrils were dragged back into the actual lyrium vein, losing some of its’ initial brightness. Why couldn’t lyrium intake be like this all the time? 

“And there is a spirit of rage,” Mouse approached, seeing the spirit before I could.

A black pit expanded in the middle of the circular alley, with a fiery demon clawing its’ way out of the darkness. I approached it slowly, keeping my distance. 

“And so it comes to me at last… soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul,” a disembodied voice full of dominating rage informed me. 

I stood with Mouse, collecting my staff and positioning myself into a defensive stance. “It’s two against one, do you really wish to fight us both?”

“Amusing… have you not told it of our arrangement, Mouse?”

Mouse was in his human form now, confronting the demon head on. “We don’t have an arrangement, not anymore.”

His behavior seemed to be more inconsistent as we travelled-- I remembered his hopes of retrieving his own body, I remembered me promising to help get back it as well, and now this. Of course I didn’t know Mouse, but I truly believed we had some kind of connection between our fates as apprentices taking a Harrowing. I decided to listen to their conference. 

“Oh, and after all of those wonderful meals we have shared! Now, suddenly, the mouse has changed the rules?”

“I’m not a mouse now, and soon I won’t have to hide. I don’t need to bargain with the likes of you.” 

“We shall see.”

Mouse rushed towards the demon with the strength of a true bear, lacerating its’ form with great savagery. I channeled coldness through my staff, raising it upward in the direction of the demon. A cold shell wrapped around it, encasing the fiend. Mouse stood upon his hind legs, coming down with a fierce swing that shattered its’ entire body. He took a moment to regain himself, shifting to a human form once more. “You did it… you actually did it!”

Mouse turned to me. “When you came I hoped that maybe you might be able to, but I never thought any of you were worthy.”

“The apprentices you betrayed… who were they?” I asked, disappointment caught on my tone. 

“Wha..? They weren’t as promising as you. It was a long time ago. Uh… I don’t remember their names. I can’t even remember mine. It’s the Fade, and the templars killing me. Like they tried with you.”

“Stop with the lies. What do you want with me?”

“You defeated a demon, you completed your test. With time, you will be a Master Enchanter with no equal. And maybe there’s hope in that for someone as small and as… forgotten as me. If you’re still offering to help me, I’ll need to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in.”

If I didn’t know better, I would basically be damning myself to possession and becoming an abomination. These were the types of demons that First Enchanter Irving and Valor warned me about, the kind that casually preyed on unsuspecting dreamers. “I don’t think that other demon was test, Mouse. It was you the entire time.” 

“What? What do you- gah, of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential… huh, you are a smart one.” Mouse’s indignant demeanor shifted to a calculated character in a matter of seconds.

“Simple killing is a warrior’s job.” His voice turned demented, befitting of a true demon in my eyes. “The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions… careless trust… pride…”

Mouse’s body grew to form the real demon I was meant to face, soon towering over me. I could only describe its appearance as… nightmarish. The sight left me utterly speechless, even making me halt my breathing. 

“Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests never end.”


	5. A Mage's Rites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up after the Harrowing, your friend Jowan tells you that First Enchanter Irving requires your presence. In Irving's office, you are formally welcomed into the Circle and introduced to Duncan, one of the fabled Grey Wardens.

I awoke in my bunk, awfully delighted to stare at the top bunk placed over mine. I was a mage now. I wasn’t sure where to begin, but I guess that’s why the First Enchanter was here. 

“Are you alright? Say something, please,” a familiar voice moaned. 

“Mouse?” I called out, still rising out of my sleep. 

“Who?” I then quickly realized who I was talking to, snapping me out of my Fade daydreaming. It was Jowan, someone who I considered a good friend of mine, at least while I still lived in the Tower. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re alright. They carried you in this morning, I didn’t even realize you’d been gone all night! I’ve heard about apprentices that never come back from Harrowings. Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?”

“Jowan… it’s too early. Even if I had the patience, I couldn’t tell you. The Fade is confidential for a reason.” I understood the words that the First Enchanter spoke of in the Harrowing chamber. In the moment, I was too naive to understand, but now most of it makes sense. I’d have to ask him about my confusion and doubts later. 

“Oh, so much for friendship, I’ll leave you alone then,” he pouted. “And now you get to move to the nice mage’s quarter upstairs. I’m stuck here and I don’t even know when they’ll call for my own harrowing.”

“They’ll summon you when you’re ready, Jowan. You’re still at the age where apprentices usually become mages.”

“Pfft.” Dismissing my affirmations, he turned away from me to the point where I could only see him from his left side. “I’ve been here longer than you have. Sometimes I think they just don’t want to test me.”

“Unless you have something against you that warranted the Circle to withhold your Harrowing, you don’t have much to worry about.” I could see him visibly tense up after hearing my statement, putting him into a silence that was so unlike his fretful nature. “...Jowan?”

He finally turned to me. “The tranquill never go through a Harrowing. You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility, or you die. That’s what happens.”

I sighed, my frustration starting to unfavorably mix with my grogginess. “They’re not going to kill you, Jowan.”

“They might not. But the Rite of Tranquility is just as bad, maybe even worse. You’ve seen the tranquil around the Tower, like Owain who runs the stockroom! He’s so cold-- no, not even cold. There’s just nothing in him. It’s like he’s dead but still walking. His voice… his eyes… lifeless.” 

“Alright, Jowan, obviously you’re not telling me something. What circumstances are you involved in to make you so paranoid that the Circle will ring you up for tranquility or death?” 

“I’ll just say that the Circle sometimes forces tranquility on the apprentices they believe are too weak… or too dangerous as mages. I-I shouldn’t bother you with this, I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up.”

I stared at him from my bed, wondering what was the point of the entire conversation. I decided to drop it. He was finished, and now so was I. “Got it. Where would he be?” 

“He said he’d be in his study, upstairs. Don’t keep him waiting, we can speak later.” He hurried out of the metal door on our left. 

Rising from my bunk, I started to hear the whispers of the apprentices that shared of what was to be my old quarters. 

“Did you hear anything? Is he alright? Is he awake?” A female voice spoke.

“Why do you care, are you friends now?” Another female voice spoke mockingly.

“I’m just curious! That templar, Cullen, said it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he’d ever seen. He says he’s very talented, and quite willful...”

“Well he would, wouldn’t he…”

Really? Once I believed that I was a pariah of my quarters, and now that I passed my Harrowing that’s all suddenly revoked? I couldn’t believe the audacity. I stormed to the vanity chamber on the right-hand side of the room, making sure to glare at the source of the two female voices.

My anger subsided as I sat upon the first dress table I saw on the left, gazing into its’ reflection. Staring back at me were tired, dark brown eyes. I lightly pressed a finger against the delicate skin under my bottom eyelash, a ring spread across it that didn’t match my dark, coppery brown skin. I raked my fingers through my silver, messy curls, attempting to groom them into something presentable. I gave up, instead tucking some of them behind my long, pointed ears-- a peculiarity of my elven lineage.

I stood up from the dressing table, prepared as I could be for my meeting with the First Enchanter. I adjusted my robes, tightening my belt and twiddling with the collar of my undershirt. Once I was completely ready, I started heading towards the Senior Mage quarters, exiting through the same metal door that Jowan did.

I stopped to observe the Apprentice’s study, considering that I was going to see much less of it in the near future. Colossal bookshelves lined the room, as well as expansive wooden tables and occupied practicing stations for the enchanters and their apprentices. The enchanters composedly instructed the older apprentices, issuing less potent spells as baby steps in order for them to become mages so capable of handling their abilities that they wouldn’t even need an instructor. The even younger apprentices were being taught of the history and mandates of the Circle, some of them being as young as five or six. My heart ached knowing that most of them were just taken from their families, and now they were to be completely isolated from the outside world. 

“Can you remember what the chantry says about magic?” An enchanter asked.

“Magic must… serve man, and not rule over him,” a young apprentice replied. I could tell they were more so reciting the line than actually believing it, judging by their pauses and uncertain pitch. This isn’t the way things should be, nor should it be the way magic is taught. All of the techniques were too systematic and dull, neglectful of the unique ways in which apprentices could learn. I swallowed my resentment, continuing on to exit the Apprentice’s study up a stone staircase that lead to the official Senior Mage quarters.

I came into the first segment of the Senior Mage quarters, that is, the stockroom. I was about to exit before a monotone voice grabbed my attention. “Welcome to the Circle stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?” 

It wasn’t my first time visiting the quarters, but it was the first time I met this particular mage. I had remembered that Jowan mentioned him by name. “You’re a tranquil mage?”

“Yes. I voluntarily submitted to the Rite of Tranquility. I was unwilling to go through the Harrowing. If you must know, I find this state agreeable.” 

“Interesting. You like being this way?” 

“I see the world with clarity. I remember the days when my mind was filled with inconvenient and seething emotions. Now things are simple.” His air was of a blissful numbness, or blind ignorance for that matter.

“I understand that most of the rites in the Circle are kept a secret for a reason, but, could you enlighten me on the process of becoming a tranquil mage?”

“It is difficult to describe. I would perhaps compare it to being plunged into a pool of ice cold water.” 

“Hmm.” I didn’t want to know more of the warped ceremonies of the Circle. “Well, I should go. I apologize for disrupting whatever you were doing before.” 

“Very well. Goodbye.” I took a small notebook out of one of my side pockets, pulled a pencil out of its’ metallic spiral binding, and wrote a note to myself, “research tranquil mages and Rite of Tranquility in free time.”

Exiting the stockroom, I entered the left circling corridor that lead to the First Enchanter’s study. The mages that I could see were wrapped up in their own affairs, senior enchanters discussing politics and issues that I wasn’t privy of during my apprenticeship. I would get to learn now, though. Exciting. The idea of getting wrapped up in petty human drama was the only disadvantage of the mage title, in my opinion. I spotted a familiar face in templar armor on my way to Irving’s study, firmly planted in his sentinel position. 

Honey-colored, slicked hair and a peachy, modest face notified me that it was Cullen, one of the youngest templars in the Circle Tower. He had to be at least my age, eighteen or so, if not a little bit older. I didn’t know him well enough to engage in conversation, and I’m not sure I wanted to talk to anyone besides Irving anyway. I attempted to walk past him, averting my eyes from his. 

“Um… hello,” he murmured, trying to get my attention. “I-I’m glad to see your Harrowing went so smoothly.”

I recalled the conversation between the two female apprentices back in my old study, remembering his name being mentioned. “I appreciate it, Cullen.” 

He seemed surprised that I had responded, faltering in his expression. “T-they picked me as the templar to strike the killing blow, if… if you became an abomination. It’s nothing personal, I swear. I, uh, I’m just glad you’re alright, you know?” 

“I understand, thank you for your concern. You have your orders, and I have mine.”

“O-of course. I serve the Chantry as well as the Maker, and I must do as I am commanded.” He straightened his form, trying to pull confidence from his speech. Alas, he ended up sounding like the young apprentices reciting lines in the study instead. Why was he so nervous around me? Was it just templar paranoia? 

“Mmhm. Well, I shouldn’t distract you from your duties then.” 

“Oh, you’re not distracting-- well, you are, but-- you’re not-- I mean… you can talk to me any time, if you want. But yes, maybe we can talk later.” He weakly smiled, struggling to regain his composure.

“That would be fine. Goodbye, Cullen.” I politely smiled back, avoiding the awkwardness of the chatter. 

He paused for a split second. “Goodbye, Cullen.” He dipped his head to the floor and harshly shut his eyes after making the mistake, signalling the end of the conversation for me. I swore I could’ve heard him cursing under his breath afterwards. Strange. 

Finally, I had reached the study. The soft lighting of a fireplace illuminated the figures of three men in the room, one of them unfamiliar to me. The other two were Knight-Commander Greagoir and the First Enchanter, engaged in the discussion with the new stranger. The man didn’t seem to be a templar, nor a mage. He wore silver armor that was bound by large belts, with a thick, blue and silver jacket and tabard under it. In the middle was a chest plate ornamented with the image of a feathered animal that I’ve never seen, but maybe heard of from a Circle entry. 

“Many have already gone to Ostagar-- Wynne, Uldred, and most of the Senior mages. We’ve committed enough of our own to this war effort,” Greagoir disagreed. Whenever he argued with the First Enchanter, I could always hear his voice first, and it wasn’t any different today. 

“Your own? Hmph. Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?” Irving argued back, making considerable points. It was a templar’s duty to repress mages, and I’m saying that literally. The main function of their abilities were to deny and counter our wills, stopping us from molding things out of our reality. 

“How dare you suggest-”

“Gentleman, please… Irving, someone is here to see you,” the unfamiliar man interrupted. The three men turned to my attention.

“Um, First Enchanter?” My voice turned meek. 

“Ah, if it isn’t our new brother in the Circle, come child,” Irving warmly greeted me. 

“This is…” The man approached me along with Irving, inspecting me closely. 

“Yes, this is he.”

“Well, Irving, you’re obviously busy. We will discuss this later.” Greagoir left the room before Irving could get the last word.

“Of course.” The First Enchanter snapped momentarily, unsteadily focusing his attention back to me. “Well, then, ehm, where was I? Oh, yes, this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens.”

A Grey Warden? What was a warrior of such stature and responsibility doing here? Aren’t they supposed to be facing the Blight or unearthed darkspawn? I traced my memories back to when I first entered the room-- Greagoir was talking about a commitment to some war effort. Did they want mages to be more involved? 

“Really? I’m pleased to be in your presence, Duncan.” I made sure I wasn’t staring at him too intensely. Now that he was closer, I could see his features more clearly. Tan skin, graying, black hair bound into a tight ponytail with a few loose hairs hanging down in the front, deep brown eyes, and a hooked nose. It felt embarrassing to admit to myself, but I found him sort of attractive. Of course, I wouldn’t let anyone know this. I had to keep my aura of mystique up somehow. 

“Likewise, mage.” I could tell he was aware of his stark frame, and he was softening his voice to avoid overawing me… or that’s what I envisioned he was doing. Maker, pull yourself together, Samile. 

“You’ve heard of the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king’s army at Ostagar.” 

“To defend Ferelden from a Blight, I’m guessing. If that’s the case, I’d gladly involve my efforts.” The Harrowing was a test of my morale, and I succeeded it. Defending the world from a Blight would be another test that I could pass, and I wished to spread my new mage wings. 

“Correct. With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle. The power you mages wield is an asset to any army, and your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn. If we don’t drive them back, we may see the Blight you speak of.” 

Darkspawn… the tainted monstrosities that lived under our feet, way underground. If the Blight wasn’t here immediately, that must’ve meant that they haven’t found a new leader to guide them, whatever it was. The studies I’ve read about the Blights all say that the darkspawn armies had an arch-something. The word wouldn’t come to me in the moment. 

“Duncan, you worry the poor boy with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for him!” The First Enchanter was purposely keeping me in the dark. I could understand his concern, me being a mage coming just of apprenticeship, but I didn’t care. I just learned the world could potentially face another Blight, and the mages’ value was worth everything. It was an opportunity for the Circle to dismiss the idea that we couldn’t control ourselves without templar leashes, if we couldn’t do it before. 

“We live in troubled times, my friend.” 

“We should seize moments of levity, especially in levelled times.” The First Enchanter turned his attention away from Duncan, focusing back to me again. “The Harrowing is behind you; your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi.”

It seemed like I took the Harrowing only moments ago, the memories of my Fade adventures still ringing in my mind. “Thank you, First Enchanter.”

“I’m sorry, what is the phylactery you speak of?” Duncan raised a furrowed brow and looked at the First Enchanter with an inquisitive eye.

“Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the Tower, and is preserved in special vials.”

“So they can be hunted if they turn apostate?”

The First Enchanter crossed his arms. “We have very few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear, we must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly. This apprentice has done exactly that, and so I present him with his new robe and staff, along with a ring bearing the Circle’s insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them.”

He handed me the aforementioned items, taking my left hand and placing a bundled golden robe with blue accents on top of it, as well as a small, gold band inscribed with the Circle's insignia. In my right hand, he placed a white wooden staff with a black tip. “Again, thank you, First Enchanter. I’m proud to be a part of this Circle.”

The First Enchanter smiled at me like a proud father. “It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those that have not undergone the rite. Now then, take your time to rest or study in the library. The day is yours.”

“Well, if it won't disrupt you, I’d prefer to talk with you more.”

A low chuckle came from the First Enchanter. “I am glad you asked first, we can talk later. I need to finish my discussion with Greagoir.” 

“I will return to my quarters,” Duncan announced. 

“Oh, yes, would you be so kind to escort Duncan back to his room, child?” 

“...Of course.”


	6. Matters to Discuss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jowan waylays you after you leave Duncan, and asks for your help. He introduces you to his love, Lily, who has made a very disturbing discovery. They want your help to break into the Tower basement and destroy Jowan's phylactery so he can escape from the Tower unpursued.

The First Enchanter bid me and Duncan on our way to continue his deliberation with Greagoir, giving me directions to the guest quarters. Iterated from the First Enchanter himself, they were supposed to be on the eastern side of this floor, next to the library. As Duncan followed a few steps behind me, a quiet stillness tagged along. I could only hear our two pairs of footsteps and the inaudible exchanges of my fellow mages in the background before he broke the silence. 

“Thank you for escorting me, I’m glad for the company,” Duncan said warmly. I still couldn’t swallow the reality that I was escorting a Grey Warden to his quarters, but getting starstruck was inappropriate at this time. He was here on a grim inclination, not a vacation to our wondrous Circle Tower. 

“Of course, sir,” I replied, unsure of whether to be formal about the matter. He wasn’t a political figure or a king, but I thought it’d be best to show him the respect a warrior deserves. 

“Duncan is just fine.” Nevermind then. “The First Enchanter didn’t properly introduce you. If I may ask, what is your name?” 

“Samile. Samile Surana. You can just call me Samile, though.” I extended my right hand, planning to give him a greeting. I only knew the meaning of my first name, which was just a combination of the aromatic plants sage and chamomile. They were the proper first names of my parents, with Surana being the given name of my family. Duncan gripped my hand, shaking it promptly. It only hurt my bony stub of a limb just a little bit. 

“I saw how perceptive you were in the study. How did you piece together that I was here for recruitment towards fighting back the Blight?”

“It was kind of obvious. I knew a Grey Warden wouldn’t be here just on their own whim. The Knight-Commander’s remarks also spelled it out for me.” Duncan was surprisingly talkative despite how gruff he looked. Appearances really don’t tell you everything about a person, it seems.

“Hmm.” He kept his eyes on his own path. “It’s not my place to comment, but I believe you’re aware that Greagoir serves the Chantry. I’m also sure you’re aware of the strained relationship between the Chantry and mages. They tolerate magic, watching only because they feel they must.”

“Yes, I’m painfully aware.” And I only had sympathy for mages. For the most part, we never asked for our power, but the whole world looked at us if we were the Tevinter magisters that entered the Golden City and ruined it. I don’t think it’s pushing it too far to say that they looked at us as unfettered demons, or even darkspawn. I’ve suffered the brunt of the marginalization, being a mage with an elven background. “Not to disrespect the Chantry, but I find it difficult to understand their motivations. Mages are people, just like them. Their neighbors could be mages and they wouldn’t even know.”

“The Chantry believes that a mage should fear their own power, and that it was the pride of mages, they say, that brought the darkspawn upon us in the first place. Any mages who join the king’s army can unleash their full power on the darkspawn. In fact, I’m counting on it. Greagoir and the Chantry as a whole may be afraid of what will happen. What if the mages decide they no longer want to be governed by the Chantry?” 

“I… I don’t have answer for you.” To be honest, I couldn’t imagine a world where the mages weren’t dictated by templars and the Chantry. Where we would start? Would we refabricate templar techniques under the guise of a new label to keep ourselves in check? Would the cycle of conflict between the mages and the Chantry rebirth itself? I couldn’t answer these questions, and I doubt the First Enchanter even could either. “What’s your opinion on all of this?”

“I believe we must defeat the darkspawn, one way or another. My opinions end there.” By the time Duncan finished his thoughts, we arrived to his temporary quarters. “Once more, I must thank you for escorting me, Samile.”

I mentally flinched at him saying my name in such a weighty tone. “You’re welcome, Duncan.” I crossed my hands behind my back, leaving him to his own concerns. 

Jowan greeted me as soon as I stepped outside. “I’m glad I caught up to you. Are you done talking to Irving or whoever?”

I dramatically scanned the corridor, ignoring his presence. “Oh no, it seems as if the First Enchanter disappeared out of my sights! Of course I’m done talking, Jowan. At least, for now.”

“I’m serious! I need to talk you. Do you remember what we discussed this morning?” 

“I believe I do.”

“Great. We should go somewhere else, I don’t feel safe talking here…”

Now he was starting to worry me. “Are you okay, Jowan?”

He hushed me with a small wave of a hand. “I’ve been troubled, I’ll explain. Come with me, please.”

Jowan quickly lead me to a chapel on the right side of the floor beyond the stockroom, a female initiate inside. If Jowan desired secrecy, why was she here? “...You’re aware there’s a sister here, correct?”

“That’s what I’m getting to. A few months ago, I told you that I… met a girl. This is Lily.” Oh, Jowan. Not only were relationships between mages forbidden, but a priest-mage relationship was especially forbidden. Lily uncomfortably grinned ear to ear, sensing the awkwardness of the situation. 

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Lily,” I briefly bowed my head in her direction, honestly too uncomfortable to give her a proper greeting. “So…”

“Still getting there. Remember I said that I think the Circle didn’t want to give me my Harrowing? I know why. They’re… planning to make me tranquil. They’ll take everything that I am from me! My dreams, my hopes, fears, my love for Lily, all gone!” He looked towards Lily momentarily. “They’ll extinguish my humanity. I’ll just be a husk, breathing and existing but not truly living.” 

My stomach sunk upon listening to Jowan’s monologue. “Hold on, how did you learn all of this?” 

“I saw the document on Greagoir’s table. It authorized the rite on Jowan, and Irv-” Lily spoke, curtly cut off by Jowan.

“Destroy my phylactery. Without it, they can’t track me down.” I could sense that Jowan was nearing his breaking point, maybe already passing it. 

“You’re not truly considering becoming an apostate, are you? They’ll treat you even worse then!” I knew his position was lethal either way, but there should still be a solution to all this. There had to be.

“We need your help. Lily and I can’t do this on our own.”

“Give us your word that you will help, and we will tell you what we intend.” Lily was extremely composed compared to Jowan, almost as if she rehearsed this whole reveal beforehand. It was obvious that she was the one of the two who designed this conspiration. I took a deep breath, already committing myself to their plan. 

“You have my word.”

Lily seemed to be relieved. “Thank you, we will never forget this. I can get us into the repository, but there is a problem. There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door, to which the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander hold each key. But it is just simply a door, and there’s enough power in this Tower to destroy all of Ferelden.” 

“We can’t get our hands on both keys, and it’d be a bad idea to try and get them. I once saw a rod of fire melt through a lock, though. You could probably get one from the stockroom, but Owain doesn’t release such things to apprentices. Samile, you, on the other hand…”

“Way ahead of you. I’d suggest the both of you stay here for the time being.” 

Lily nodded, agreeing. “One mage at the stockroom will attract less attention than a mage, apprentice, and initiate. Good luck, our prayers go with you.” What was I getting myself into? 

I left the two ill-fated lovers behind, exiting the chapel and going back to the stockroom. I leaned against a nearby pillar blocking the caches of magical items from the actual room. All of this was too dangerous, and I shouldn’t have even been involved, but Jowan was my only close friend in the Circle. He treated me as if I was any other apprentice in the Tower, and I never took it for granted. I couldn’t just give up on him. 

I stared at the room’s dark, orderly tiled floors, thinking of some other solution. Maybe I should just take this to the First Enchanter… wait. Yes, I should. The First Enchanter had empathy for all mages, especially apprentices. I could convince him to stop Jowan’s Rite of Tranquility, ending this whole mess. Standing up from my position, I directed myself towards Irving’s study.

“Ah, there you are,” The First Enchanter addressed me. “I ran into Duncan. You seem to make a good impression; he was pleased to have met you.”

I grinned, reminding myself of our exchange. “I could say the same. He’s an impressive character, and less taciturn than he’d seemed when we first met.” 

The First Enchanter gave his familiar, low chuckle. “You should speak to him more, if you get the chance. He’s a wise and learned man. You haven’t seen your friend Jowan since this morning, have you?” 

Could he be reading my mind? I wouldn’t be surprised, given his title. “I have, in fact. He’s who I wanted to discuss with you.” 

“I see. I wanted to know if he was feeling… alright. He seemed nervous when I spoke to him, avoiding my gaze and seeming ready to bolt. You wouldn’t know what brought on this behavior, would you?” 

“Yes, I do.” I didn’t exactly want to incriminate Jowan or Lily, so I planned my words carefully. Between my contemplation and him expecting an explanation, there was a slight pause between us both.

“I understand your need to protect your friend, so I shall make this easier. Jowan is having an affair with an initiate, is he not?” Of course he would already know everything. He’s the one who’ll probably give the rite to Jowan, after all. 

Intuitively sensing the hesitance in my behavior, he confirmed the answer for himself. “Yes, I’ve known about this for some time. And she revealed the plans to make him tranquil? I understand why, though she should have known better. Now, I know Jowan discussed something with you today. What did he say?” The disappointment in his voice actually saddened me. The First Enchanter expected nothing but brightness out of us, and I could tell he was disillusioned by our actions. Well, not mine specifically, but whatever.

“He… seeks to destroy his phylactery.” Letting go of the truth lifted a weight off my shoulders and effectively replaced it with another. Now, I was only betraying Jowan, my only friend in the Tower, as well as Lily. 

“So you realize Jowan is breaking the Circle’s rules. I commend your loyalty. If he wishes to destroy his phylactery and escape, help him do it.”

Didn’t expect that. “...What?”

“I could simply report Jowan to the templars, but Lily has also broken her vows and must face like consequences. For this, we need irrefutable proof of her crime. The Chantry will stand behind her, claiming she has been framed or is the thrall of a blood mage. There must be no doubt in their minds that she helped him voluntarily, and she is as guilty as Jowan. I refuse to see him suffer while the Chantry shelters her. Ever so often, we must remind the Chantry their members are not as perfect as they pretend. Tell Jowan and Lily you will aid them. Help them enter the repository, if that’s what they intend.”

“I understand and I will do so, First Enchanter, but Jowan… it may be selfish, but I don’t want to see him face the consequences, at least not as harshly as they already are. Please, if you would, lessen the damage of his penalty.” I crossed my hands below my chin, praying for Jowan’s fate.

He considered my pleas, crossing his arms and staring into my eyes. His large, gray beard shifted as he pursed his lips. “I’ll see what I can do, but I do not know if I can do much given the nature of the circumstance. As for Lily, the consequences will obviously be dire.” I might’ve been biased, but Lily was an outlier for me as far as I was concerned. Her punishment would be less dire than any other mage's.

“Thank you, First Enchanter. That’s all I need to hear. But, I have to request something that’ll help me with my task.”

“Anything, child.”

“A rod of fire.”


	7. Dungeon Crawling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, your apprentice friend Jowan, and his initiate lover, Lily, travel deep into the Circle Tower's basement to retrieve his phylactery. The abuse of the Circle's laws by his hand distances him from you, and you struggle to find sympathy for his bleak future.

The First Enchanter was initially unwilling to grant my request of the rod of fire, but I assured him I would put it to somewhat ethical use. Thankfully, he entrusted it to me. I had put on my official mage wear before we left for the basement beneath the Apprentice quarters, as well as equipping my new staff and enchanted ring. Circle apparatuses were truly a force to be reckoned with. Jowan brought only his own staff; Lily, a shortsword, small metal shield, and lightweight breastplate. They had forewarned me about the guardians keeping intruders out of the repository, which weren’t remarkable on their own but could do considerable damage in numbers. I had hoped to get in more smoothly, but it’d be idiotic to expect the Circle not to put up traps. 

The basement of the Tower was as eerie as any dungeon, cobwebs strewn across the nooks and corners of the ceilings, and faint torches barely lighting the halls. Jowan had ignited the top of his staff with a fire spell, cooling the area under it with a frost spell so the flames couldn’t travel down its’ shaft. We stopped in front of a faded, wide platinum door.

“The Chantry calls this entrance the Victims’ Door. It is built of two hundred and seventy-seven planks, one for each original templar,” Lily whispered. “It is a reminder of all the dangers those cursed with magic pose.”

I placed my hands on my hips, feeling the rod of fire in my possession. “Huh. It looks like any other door, though.”

“The doors can be opened only by a templar and a mage, entering together. The Chantry provides the password, which primes the ward, and the mage touches it with mana to release it.”

“If you had the password before, why couldn’t you and Jowan enter earlier?” 

“The ward only responds to the touch of one who had been through their Harrowing.” Now I see why they needed me. Without a mage, there’d be no hope for their scheme. And now, I was to pull them through subterfuge and allow the Chantry to catch them in the act.

“...I see. What must we do?”

“First, the password…” Lily turned to the door, placing a hand outward and bowing her head. “Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade.”

The chant worked, an unworldly chime indicating the ward’s presence. “The password only primes the door. Now it must feel the touch of mana. Any spell will do, but hurry.” Lily swiftly paced behind me and Jowan, giving me space for my spell. 

I gathered arcane energy from the air into my fingertips, facing the door with my palm open and launching a simple bolt at the door. The door absorbed the bolt, a click indicating that the door was undoubtedly unlocked. “There.”

Jowan rushed in first, not too far from me and Lily. I looked ahead to find another obstacle door, as well as another hall to the right of it. “Do you have the rod with you? Hurry, melt the locks off!”

Per his request, I jerked the rod of fire from my belt, waving it in front of broad door. I waited for the sound of creaking steel or a give that the doorframe was loosening, but they never came. 

“W-what’s the matter? Why isn’t it working?” Lily gasped. Both of them were on edge, which made them as equally frustrating to deal with.

“Everyone, calm down. Let me try again.” I waved the rod of fire around the door in circular motions, extending the time of the gestures.

“Lily… something’s not right, I can’t feel any of my willpower here.” 

Just as Jowan professed, I started to feel the same effects. “Same here.” 

Lily began inspecting the door, tracing her fingers over the recesses of it and murmuring indistinct words. “These words carved into the stone… this must be the templars work. They negate any magic cast within this specific area! I should have guessed. Why would Greagoir and Irving use simple keys? Because magical keys don’t work! How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely worthless! That’s it, then! We’re finished! We can’t get in!” She spoke as if she were on the verge of collapsing. 

“Lily, everything will be fine. Look down the hall beside us,” I pointed to the hall on our right, a similar stone door at its’ end. 

“That door probably leads to another part of the repository. What are the chances of there being another entrance?” Jowan looked to me, as well as Lily. They were completely placing their faith in me, and it hurt me to… no. No time for low spirits. I was going to get in and get out, Jowan’s phylactery destroyed or otherwise. I was going to live my best life, in the comfort of the Tower’s Senior Mage quarters or fighting the Blight with Grey Wardens. I blew hot air out of my nostrils and scrunched my forehead, displeasure layering my face.

“Do we have a choice?” My voice echoed through the hall.

“...No, I guess not. I’ll take any chance we can get.” Jowan avoided my gaze, focusing his attention to the door on our right instead.

Lily regained herself, stabilizing her breathing. “We can’t get into the chamber the way we planned, but we’re not about to give up. We can see where this door leads, but I don’t think it’ll be easy… it looks locked, for one.”

“The rod might work on those locks, right?” I stared at the rod still placed in my left hand.

“Hopefully, yes. Let’s pray the smaker smiles upon us.” Lily gave a smile befitting of a Chantry priest. What they were committing was severe, and I had to admire Lily’s loyalty. She could possibly be in prison for the rest of her life, but she wanted nothing more than to be with the mage she loved. To be honest, I was a little jealous. 

I took the initiative, walking up to the stone door and waving the rod over it. I could hear a discharge of combustion swell through the door, melting the locks and leaving it ajar. Now we were getting somewhere. 

“Oh, that’s not good...” Jowan said, eyes widened. I spun around, instantly grabbing my staff and putting myself into a defensive position, him doing the same. Empty, humanoid shells covered with iron armor advanced towards us, carrying maces, broadswords, and shields. There were only three to be seen, and hopefully more didn’t lurk behind them unseen.

Lily lifted her small shield in front of her body with her left hand, raising her shortsword with the right. She charged at the closest guardian next to her, leaving Jowan and I to face the other two. Their swords clashed, leaving sparks that briefly lit up the hall. 

“Jowan, with me!” Jowan looked towards me, nodding shakily.

“What’s your plan?”

“We freeze them with cold, and then use stone to shatter them.” My staff was already tipped with a cold essence, ready to fire off at any moment. Jowan promptly charged his own staff, drawing the tip to face the guardians.

“Ready?” Jowan asked, facing them.

“Ready!” We both diffused a stream of coldness from our staves, effectively freezing the iron figures in place. Setting the bottoms of our staves on the basement floor in tandem, we manipulated rocks and gravel to travel up the shafts, completely encasing them top to bottom. Influencing our will with mana, the rocks and gravel molded themselves into two giant fists, propelling themselves in the direction of the frozen guardians and smashing them into ice fragments. Lily had already finished, coming back with a cut on her forehead and a few slits between the spots of her Chantry garb that weren’t protected by her breastplate.

“Are you both alright?” She asked in the most sweetly voice, stepping over the frozen remains.

“As we’ll ever be. Let me take off that cut, my love.” Jowan strolled over, a blue light spread across his left hand. He brushed his thumb in the air over her cut, marvelously knitting her flesh. The remaining scar didn’t disappear, however. When he finished, he brought his hand to her cheek, cradling it. Lily returned the gesture, cupping his hand with her own and smiling. 

A wave of guilt threatened to wash over me, but I refused to give it power. “Let’s go.” 

We carried on towards the repository. A few halls, guardians, deep stalkers, miniature Circle prisons and dead end rooms later, we came upon a large chamber with unfamiliar Circle artifacts. Each of us explored it our own, careful to not disturb the contents. Another dead end it seems.

“What is this place?” Jowan asked, remarking the entire expanse and staring at a stone, feminine-like statue on the right side of the chamber. “There’s something odd about this thing…”

“It’s probably better to just leave it be,” I cautioned him. 

“Yeah, yea-”

“Greetings,” a disembodied voice around the statue welcomed. It sounded eerily close to the voices I heard in my Harrowing, making me jump inside my body. I anxiously gritted my teeth, keeping my distance away from it. 

“Maker’s breath!? Did it just say something!?” Jowan yelled, taking a few panicked steps back. Lily rushed over behind him, her face in utter disbelief.

“I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord’s house…”

“Archon Valerius… I’ve heard of that name. What do you both know?” I took the opportunity to evade looking at it, my eyes strictly following Jowan and Lily.

“I’m not sure. The archons were the lords of the Imperium, I believe.” Jowan shrugged.

“‘Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress,’ he said, ‘and tell your lies to all who pass…’ But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold.”

“My goodness, a Tevinter statue! Don’t listen to it! The Tevinter dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is truly a wicked thing!” Lily turned away, placing her hands over her ears.

Contrasting Lily, I finally turned to the statue. “A Tevinter statue? How did it get here and how would they even give her this form?” 

“Weep not for me, child. Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure ‘till the Maker returns to light their fires again.” The presence quieted.

“Please stop talking to it, both of you! Let’s just leave…” Lily was turning paler by the moment.

“Lily’s right, let’s go.” Jowan softly caressed Lily’s shoulders, prepared to walk out of the room with her. I quickly realized that these weren’t our Tower’s artifacts, but all of them Tevinter. Another enduring question for the First Enchanter, I suppose. 

“Wait, hold on. There’s another statue on the runner pointing towards the bookcase.” I said, eyeing the statue with suspicion. The bookcase that it faced was clearly blocking a passageway or other, as there wall behind it was decaying and loosening its’ material. We crowded around behind the statue, Lily being the last to do so. 

“Why does the Circle keep so many Tevinter artifacts in storage?” She calmed down, but the displeased look in her eye told me she was still anxious. I could understand her fear, as well as her confusion. In the Circle, existing secrets kept piling among more secrets until an entire string of lies were created. 

“It’s our History, Lily. It’s sort of fascinating...” Jowan was focused on observing the statue, almost as if he was forgetting that we were even in the same room with him. Lily glared at his back, refusing to reply. 

“I don’t think it’s decorative, either. My apologies, Lily.” I carefully prodded the dog-like ears of the statue-- it seemed to resemble a mabari… I had to admit, Jowan was right. It was interesting, if also uncanny. 

Jowan was quick to remove my hands off the statue like I’d touched a venomous insect. “I’ve seen pictures of things like this; this statue amplifies any spell cast into it! I bet we could use this to break into the phylactery chamber.” He beamed like an excited child. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I tilted my head in doubt. If Jowan or Lily were to take punishment, it’d be best to not let them damage any Circle property. 

“Who cares? The Circle doesn’t care about my life, so why should I care to respect anything of there’s? See...” Jowan ignored my request, stepping to the bookcase and bending down to see its’ underside. “The mortar’s decaying behind the bookcase. Let’s blast it open.”

“Jowan… we’re supposed to be discreet. You make any move that alerts the templars and y-... we... are doomed.” I sighed. I looked towards Lily beside me, but she didn’t look back at me. “Please tell him this is wrong.”

She stayed silent, but I didn’t know if it was because she wanted to leave the room or be neutral towards Jowan’s actions. 

I heard Jowan deeply breathe before he marched up to me. “Samile, you knew how dangerous this plan would be as soon as you agreed to it. Either help me and Lily, or not.” 

I stared back at him, goosebumps and natural heat rising in my skin. It was my idea to even help them in the first place! Without me, they wouldn’t even get this far if I never agreed to it. “Whatever, Jowan, I was just advising you. Incriminate yourself and Lily however you would like...” 

I stepped away from the both of them, shaking my head to avoid shouting at Jowan for that bold act. Whatever actions they committed wasn’t my responsibility anymore, from here on out-- besides, I wasn’t going to be caught regardless. To think that I actually cared about what happened to them… I did, and I still do, but I was desensitized to the feelings at this point. I could hear footsteps leading up behind me. 

“Hand me the rod, will you?” Jowan reached out with his right hand, expecting me to hand him the rod. I stared at the rod fixed in my robe’s belt, waiting a few seconds before releasing it over to him. He looked me in the eye for longer than he should have, physically assessing my loyalty. Judge all you want, Jowan. There was a big surprise waiting for you, right outside of this damned repository. He pressed the stone back of the statue with the rod, a staunch stream of flame erupting from its’ mouth and spraying the bookcase as well as the wall behind it. They both burned especially quick, leaving a large, circular shaped hole in the bookcase and the mortar. Embers and small flames spread upon the floor and what remained of the bookcase.

“This is the phylactery chamber, it worked!” Jowan only reacted to Lily’s presence. She walked inside first, ignoring his joy. I followed suit, staying behind them both. The entirety of the phylactery chamber was submerged in a cool mist, predictably to preserve the apprentices’ vials. 

“Now to search for Jowan’s phylactery, quickly,” Lily finally spoke, hastening up the staircase in front of us. Again, I followed behind her. Jowan stayed behind this time, pulling out his staff and monitoring the area behind us. 

“If I’m right, some more guardians will appear. This would be the most protected part of the whole repository. I’ll stay behind while you both get my phylactery.” Jowan glanced between me and Lily, keeping his eye on the latter the most. I was glad that the phylactery chamber could cool me down, because if it didn’t I’d be steaming. Me and Lily came into the main repository, which was a medium-sized laboratory room stacked with shelves containing countless vials. 

“How will we know which one is Jowan’s?”

“The vials should be alphabetized by their first names. If you see a J column, search towards the middle of it.” We sweeped the shelves, scouring off the condensation so we could read the labelled vials. Sounds of battle cries and blizzards came from the room below, clearly emitting from Jowan. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, he’s always had an astute intuition. He would’ve been a good mage if none of this ever happened. “Hurry!”

I found Jowan’s phylactery, a small vial nestled in the median’s lower half of the shelf, exactly where Lily said it would be. “I found it! Let’s get back to Jowan.”

Lily nodded, following me back out of this repository to aid him. We saw Jowan being apprehended by two guardians, each one being too close for his comfort. He had placed a barrier around himself, blocking their constant slashes. “Help me, before it breaks and they kill me before I can even get my hands on the vial!”

I harnessed the cold energy of the chamber with my hands, freezing the air around one of the guardians and trapping it in a thick layer of ice crystals. Lily lobbed her shortsword at the other, striking it by its’ head. The guardian attacked by Lily fell, bending to its’ knees and collapsing as if it were a real soldier. The sight unnerved me a little. Jowan dispelled his barrier, breathing hard and using his staff as an anchorage to keep him balanced. “My mana is drained…” 

“We will not have to worry anymore, dear…” Lily presented him with the vial, Jowan grabbing it from her clutches, albeit weakly. She tugged her shortsword out of the guardian’s skull. 

“My phylactery… you found it! I can’t believe this tiny vial stands be me and my freedom. So fragile, so easy to be rid of it… to end its’ hold over me…” He didn’t savour its’ touch, letting it easily slip from his hand and crack on the repository floor, his preserved blood creating a reddish pool of liquid spreading through the designs in the stone. I closed my eyes, my stomach sinking from the severity of the crime he’d just committed. I wanted to tell him to stop but it was already done, and he wouldn’t have even listened to me anyway. “...and I am free.”

“I would ask if you had your own vial, but yours was already sent to Denerim, wasn’t it?” Lily asked the question as if she wanted to do me a favor.

I nodded, opening my eyes. “I’m not interested in being an apostate. Thanks for the offering, though.”

Lily uncomfortably nodded. Jowan’s head was turned to us slightly, still in awe of what he’d done. “We’re done here, you two. Let’s go.” 

“The sooner, the better…” I added, already aware of the impending future. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander were going to be right in front of the basement entrance and see our trespassing, but I didn’t care. My concern for Jowan left me as soon as he shoved my advice right back in my face. I think I even felt more for Lily than him.

Lily passed ahead, already locating an entrance. “This must be the Victims’ Door. We can freely exit, as nothing should keep whatever is inside the chamber out of it. I had almost forgotten about it.” She pushed open the door, a magical discharge surrounding its’ frame. Immediately, we rushed down the hall and ascended the stone staircase to the Apprentice quarters.


	8. Inclinations and Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Jowan, and Lily escape the Circle Tower's basement to be confronted by Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving. You reveal your position as Irving's agent, effectively betraying the both of them and cutting them off from you. Jowan, fearing his imprisonment, uses forbidden magic to resist their forces, to which Lily sends him off when he reveals his true colors as a blood mage. After you all recover, the templars seize Lily to take to the mage's prison, Aeonar. Greagoir determines your punishment before Duncan intrudes, convincing him to recruit you into the Grey Warden Order. Before you leave, Irving reminds you that will always have a place in the Circle of Magi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning(s): Blood  
> I have to say that I didn't expect myself to turn out this scene the way I did, and now it's one of the most favorite chapters I've written for this whole fanfic. I initially planned for the execution beforehand, obviously, but I decided to explore a different way I could impact Samile's character development. I think I enjoy this more somber, self-deprecating tone he has now more than his previous character. I'm not of fan of torturing my characters, but I believe his new disposition makes sense in the context of his recent experiences in this chapter. He has personally witnessed trauma, and his best friend has even called him out on his passivity towards the Circle. It grants Samile a chance to experience true introspection, and now he had to deal with an even greater challenge once he officially joins the Grey Wardens. I think I'll come back to this chapter every now and then to remind myself of what I plan for his development.

“We did it! I can’t believe it!” Jowan shouted, dancing and leaping across the basement’s entrance and making a fool of himself. He realized he hadn’t fully left the Tower yet and was making his capture so much quicker, didn’t he? Then he turned to me, surprisingly bashful. “Thank you… we could never have--”

“So what you said was true, Irving…” The Knight-Commander declared, confronting all three of us beside the First Enchanter and three other templars. I stayed silent, purposely distancing myself from the two by slightly stepping away from them and the powerful figures. 

“G-Greagoir,” Lily said in a hushed tone, backing away towards the basement door.

“An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I’m disappointed, Lily.” The Knight-Commander’s expression left much to be desired, but he probably was disappointed. He authoritatively crossed his arms behind his back, staring at Lily only, then stepped up to her, tilting his neck upwards in inspection of her. “She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then.” 

...Blood mage? Greagoir stepped back, facing the First Enchanter’s observant mood. “You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.” Just when all was right, he looked towards me standing off in my corner, my face bewildered by the accusing title of forbidden magic. 

“And this one, newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the Circle.” It seemed that he only wanted to raise his voice at me, the one who clearly wasn’t a blood mage. Jowan stepped in my direction, shielding me from his and the First Enchanter’s view.

“Leave him out of this! This was my fault, not his,” Jowan said on my behalf. I stood behind him, speechless. Why was he doing this? 

The First Enchanter also intruded once he saw Greagoir’s attention turn to me. I could almost predict what he was about to say. “He is here on my orders, Greagoir. I take full responsibility for his actions.” 

Yup. Lily and Jowan promptly switched their attention to me as well, Jowan only turning to face me. They both appeared to hurt by the reveal, and it hurt me to see the shock in their faces. Maker, I thought I could handle this much better. I shot my eyes to the floor on my left side, the wave of guilt that I repressed earlier in the basement finally taking control of my body. 

“Wait… you… you led us into a trap?” I could hear the doubt in his voice just urging me to persuade him that they were just saying artificial claims. 

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry, Jowan, but you gave me no choice. I understand being upset at your fate, but all of this could’ve been avoided. Forbidden magic? Forbidden relationships? Disrespecting the Circle’s cardinal laws? Why?” I stretched my arms out from my sides, welling emotions building up inside me as I criticized him.

“Because I didn’t want to be a Circle thrall like you!” Jowan glared at me, and I couldn’t sense any of the old fretfulness in his voice. I could feel my eyes welling up with hot tears, and my breathing was shaken. If the words shook me that badly, maybe they were true. “Don’t speak to me.” 

“Enough!” Greagoir raised his hands, his voice resonant around the room. “...As knight-commander of the templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. And this initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar.”

Maker, no. Lily was too kind for an asylum like Aeonar. She visibly trembled as the templars behind the Knight-Commander prepared to seize her, sliding between Jowan. “The… the mages’ prison. No… please, no. Anything but there!”

Jowan quickly stood beside her, pulling the shortsword out of her hilt and sharply stabbing the palm of his hand with blade. “No, I won’t let you touch her!”

Blood drained out of his hand and poured onto the floor, a steaming, red arcane energy rising out of it. Jowan raised his hands and pushed out a force capable of knocking the templars, the Knight-Commander, as well as the First Enchanter unconscious. He turned to Lily, an all-consuming stare on his face. I watched in utter horror, slowly stepping back from the scene and tears finally streaming down my cheeks. Did he care about me enough to not attack me as well? Or did he know I wouldn’t stop him from leaving? 

Lily was no less frightened, staring at Jowan as if he were any other common murderer. “By the Maker… blood magic! I--... how could you? You said you never…” 

Jowan took a few steps back from her to give her space the she needed, shaking his head and narrowly waving his hands. “I admit, I… I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!”

Lily stubbornly shook her head, declining to believe Jowan’s words. “Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people… changes them…” 

“I’m going to give it up! All magic, I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, come with me…” I could see Jowan’s behavior softened as he pleaded his life to her. 

“I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you… I… I don’t know you are, blood mage. Stay away from me!” Lily’s voice remained a whisper before she shouted her comfortless farewell. Jowan ran from the room, applying pressure to his self-impaired hand. Once he was out of the room, I ran for the injured templars and the First Enchanter. Attempting to silence my crying, I sat on the floor, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before channeling my will into my staff via a restorative energy. I stood above their unconscious bodies and waved the staff over them, blue, shining lights descending upon them and submerging into their skin. Lily only stood there, covering her face and sniveling at the mess. 

It took about fifteen minutes for the First Enchanter and Greagoir to come conscious, and maybe double that for the templar soldiers. I continued to sit by him, embracing him and resting my head on his right shoulder. “First Enchanter, I’m so sorry… I thought you were all gone.”

“Are you alright? Where’s Greagoir?” The First Enchanter asked, weakly grabbing my shoulders. 

Greagoir had already stood up, righteously furious and panting harder than I ever heard him.   
“I knew it… blood magic. But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power…”

“He never said anything to me about it… how long could he have been lying?” I raised my bloodshot eyes to Greagoir, him adjusting an arm and staring at the floor in fiery contemplation. The First Enchanter stood up without my aid, bringing me along with him. He patted one of my shoulders, letting me know that he was alright to stand without support. I swiftly gave him his space and wiped the tears from my eyes with the arm of my robe. 

“None of us expected this. Are you alright, Greagoir?” I sighed at the First Enchanter’s insistent worry. He could’ve been hurt more than any of us, and he placed his concern on our safety first. He was the best father I could ever dream of having, not to curse my own.

“As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened!” Greagoir spoke as if someone lit a match under his pants. I frowned at him, protective of my superior. I didn’t want to offset him more, so I stayed quiet. He paced back and forth, occasionally scowling at the First Enchanter. “Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!”

Greagoir stopped his pacing, looking around the room. “Where is the girl?”

“I… I am here, ser,” Lily said, her boots clicking against the stone floor as she came out of her space near the basement door.

Greagoir grunted in pain, his templar armor clanking as he stormed over to her. “You helped a blood mage! Look at all he’s hurt!” 

“She didn’t know anything,” I said, attempting to defend her. I don’t even know why I made an effort to try, but I still felt guilty. I started off trying to lessen their punishment, and now I maximized it. This was my fault. No-- stop. Get out of your own head and stop thinking about yourself for once in your life.

“You’ve done enough,” Lily spoke for herself, not even looking in my direction. “Knight-Commander… I… I was wrong. I was accomplice to a… a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even… even Aeonar.”

“Get her out of my sight.” The templars went back to their task of seizing her, leading her out of the room. Greagoir turned directly to me, another lecture in tow. “And you. You were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason!”

“Did you take anything from the repository?” The First Enchanter asked. 

I shook my head no, only pulling out the rod of fire that he permitted me. “Only this, but you know where I got it from.”

He took back the rod, carrying it on his side. “Very well. I believe you.” 

“But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah… what are we to do with you?” Greagoir was ready to burst.

“I was only following orders. But if you wish to imprison me or perform the Rite of Tranquility, I have no reason to stop you.” There was no more conviction in my voice, as if they’d already performed the rite. My closest friend just revealed himself to be a blood mage, I tore the seams off our relationship, and now a priestess who only found love was in the mage’s prison for the rest of her life just for aiding him. If they received punishment, why shouldn’t I? I was prepared to go along with their plan before I even spoke with the First Enchanter about it… 

“As I said, she was working under my orders,” The First Enchanter repeated. 

“And this improves the situation? The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me!”

The First Enchanter crossed his arms, defusing himself from Greagoir’s anger. “I had my reasons.” 

“You’re not all-knowing, Irving! You don’t know how much influence the blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?” A pause between the two contained the room before metallic footsteps approached us.

“Knight-Commander, if I may… I am not only looking for mages to join my army, I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens.” Duncan had entered the room, to our collective surprise. He stood closely behind me. “Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like him to join the Warden ranks.”

Was he mad? When I spoke of fighting with the Grey Wardens, I imagined myself on the side of my fellow mages already present in Ostagar, but not fully becoming one of the warriors. Did I truly deserve this title? Greagoir was as shocked as I was, his forehead scrunched and his mouth slightly agape. 

“What?! You’ve promised him a new Grey Warden?!” When would he ever stop shifting the blame on the First Enchanter? 

“Samile has served this Circle well. He would make an excellent Grey Warden.”Irving smirked, still crossing his arms. Okay, hold on, were they both serious?

“We look for dedication in our recruits. Fighting the darkspawn requires such dedication, often at the expense of all else,” Duncan explained.

“I-I object. You may say he operated under your instructions, Irving, but I do not trust him. I must investigate this issue, and I will not release this mage to the Grey Warden.” He stressed his declaration, pointing a finger towards the First Enchanter.

I decided to speak for myself. “I… don’t exactly have an objection, but how I am fit for this title? I almost betrayed the Circle of Magi, but at what expense now? I’d be grateful at a chance to redeem myself, but I would just taint the title…” 

Duncan faced Greagoir after listening to my spiel. “Greagoir, mages are needed. This mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages-- you know that. I’ll take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for his actions.” 

“This mage does not deserve a place in the Order!” It hurt coming from Greagoir’s fury, but the sensitivity wasn’t warranted; I had just said the same thing. 

“Why? Do we not reward service? This mage have served the Circle well, and that is final.” The First-Enchanter uncrossed his arms, now facing me, his well known, wizened eyes staring into mine. “You have an opportunity that few even dream of. Do not squander it.”

Now I knew I had to take the position, if not for me-- for Irving. And the Circle. I’ve learned the consequences of my actions the hard way, but he still saved me from them, like every other time. A singular tear welled up in my eye and I felt a tingling sensation in my throat, ready to burst into tears a second time. I sucked it back up, blinking away the tear and clearing my throat while I placed a hand on my chest. “So… I’m to become a Grey Warden?”

He smiled. “Yes. Be proud, child. You are luckier than you know.” I broke down again, letting my tears fall as I slightly dipped my head to the floor. If I had any solace, it wasn’t as worse as last time-- my tears weren’t wasted on tragedy. Duncan placed a hand on my right shoulder, leaving me wondering if he sensed my appreciation. 

“Thank you for everything, First Enchanter.” I grabbed one of his hands with both of my own, holding it firmly. He reinforced my grip.

“And do not forget, the Circle will always be your home. Your origin will never truly leave you, as your place in the Circle of Magi and this tower. Blessings, child.” I let go of his hand, swallowing deeply. Duncan turned me in the opposite direction as his grip was still placed on my shoulder. He let go, both of us strolling out of the room. 

“Come, your new life awaits.” Now I was to start my life as a Grey Warden, and it was all because of the First Enchanter and Duncan seeing the brightness in my faults. I would be eternally grateful to him.


	9. Arriving to Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You complete your trek to the ruins of Ostagar with Duncan, getting introduced to various figures in the camp, some important and some otherwise. Once you were finished with exploring, you would seek out another Grey Warden to prepare for your Joining ceremony with the other recruits present in the camp.

Duncan had laid out his whole plan of travel before we left Ostagar. We would travel through the hinterlands straight there, along the edges of the Korcari Wilds. He also informed me of a fun fact: the Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. He believed that it was fitting to make our stand here, even if we faced a different foe within the wilds. The scale of the darkspawn would show itself there. If they spread to the north, Ferelden would fall and there would be no hope to evade the coming of the fifth Blight. 

We arrived to Ostagar, amongst its’ concrete ruins. Duncan breathed in the chilled air as he walked, slowly exhaling out.

“The King approaches…” He spoke to me, focusing his gaze on an approaching man that was drenched in golden armor fit for a warring royal. His blond, braided hair fell past his chin, resting as the base of his neck. He also seemed to look quite young as well, a youthful confidence radiating from his form. We stopped in front of him, along with his guards in silver armor that accompanied him. “King Cailan, I didn’t expect--”

“A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you would miss all the fun!” King Cailan said playfully, briefly clutching Duncan’s forearm. 

“Not if I could help it, your Majesty.” He didn’t smile, but the way he phrased it, he seemed like he would’ve. King Cailan stood sideways beside Duncan, him following along in the same position.

“Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious! The other Wardens told you me you found a promising recruit.” The King finally acknowledged my presence, turning to me. “Is this he?”

“Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty.” 

“No need to be so formal, Duncan. We’ll be shedding blood together, after all.” He smiled at the both of us, passing glances as he approached me. “Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?”

I was apprehensive, to admit. I didn’t want to screw up in front of the King of Ferelden of all people. “I am Samile, your Majesty,” I feebly greeted him. 

“Pleased to meet you! The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?”

“I’m only recently out of my apprenticeship, but yes, I’ll try my best.” I was never the same after we left the Circle. I didn’t want to forgive myself for what happened, or any harm that I potentially caused. I was so unfocused-- I had constant visions of Jowan’s blood that coated his robe and face, or his bloodied hand; Lily’s trembling when she was told of her coming imprisonment; the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander’s unconscious bodies strewn across the Tower’s stone floor. Sometimes the hours would just pass me by when we sat in our temporal camps during the journey, and Duncan would have to touch or shake me to bring me back to my reality. Something was terribly wrong with me, and I don’t know if I had the confidence to fight alongside the Wardens adequately. I would find out soon, I guess. 

“Don’t worry, mage. We have too few of your kind here, and another is always welcome. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks.” As he approached me, I smelled the earthy scent of the ruins from his underclothing and yellowish hair. It was actually kind of refreshing.

“I’m humbled, your Majesty.” I really was. I’m not sure if he wanted an disconcerted mage on his side, though. He smiled again, giving an audible titter.

“I apologize, but I’m sorry to cut this short-- I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.” He rolled his eyes, oddly. I didn’t want to judge him, so I didn’t.

“Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week,” Duncan said, before he could step away. We had taken a small detour to Redcliffe Castle during the journey, meeting up with Eamon Guerrin, the ever so popular Arl of Redcliffe. I couldn’t remember much of the departure, unfortunately. Another problem that plagued my unraveling mind. 

“Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different.” The king spoke as if the battle was already over. If so, why must my presence be needed? For one last hurrah before the we drive back the Blight?

“I didn’t realize things we’re going so smoothly. You seem assured of the army,” I said, tilting my head in subconscious doubt. 

“Overconfident, some would say. Right, Duncan?” He chuckled.

Duncan never reacted to anything so warily, eyebrows lowered and rubbing his gloved wrist. “Your Majesty, I’m not certain the Blight can be ended quite as quickly as you wished.”

“I’m not even sure this a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.” Ah, that’s the word I was searching for in the First Enchanter’s study! The archdemon. I was surprised that didn’t fade out of my memory, either.

“Disappointed, your Majesty?” The king had turned away before Duncan made the comment, a slight pause occuring as I assumed he was reflecting his thoughts. 

“I’d hoped for a war like in the fairy tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do.” He turned to us more once. “Now, I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!” 

The King and his guards left us, Duncan sighing after the fact. “What the king said is true. They’ve won several battles against the darkspawn here.” 

“But you don’t sound hopeful at all.” He gestured me to walk with him, with his arm across his stomach and his palm open towards the bridge to the main camp. I lead first, him lingering slightly behind me.

“Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they looked to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my own feeling.”

“Why not? He seems to value your opinion. He even called you the mighty Duncan…” I gave him a tiny smile, to which he seemed to reply by absently shaking his head, staring off into the nearby wilds. I mentally bit myself, sobering my act. “Well… what would you rather have him do?” 

He turned to my attention, prepping his answer. “...Wait for reinforcements. We sent a call out west to the Grey Wardens of Orlais, but it will be many days before they can join us. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with your Joining ritual without delay. It is brief, but some preparation is required.” 

“What do you need me to do?” Duncan told me about the ritual beforehand, but not that much of it. He was quite insistent on it containing sensitive information that I couldn’t know about until it took place. It was like I was taking my Harrowing all over again. 

“Search out two of your fellow Warden recruits, they have been waiting for us to arrive. There’s another Grey Warden by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it’s time to summon the other recruits. You can explore the camp as you wish, but I must ask you to stay within its’ range. Until then, I have business to end to. You can find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of the bridge, should you need me.” I nodded while we walk to the threshold of the bridge. It was a strange obsession, but I liked the way he’d explained things to me. As the First Enchanter said verbatim, he was a learned and experienced man, and his skill in language made it apparent. 

“I have to ask you, though…” His voice took on a concerned tone. “Will you be okay to fight? I understand what you have endured at the Tower, but I need you ready to face the darkspawn.”

“...I’m sorry, Duncan. I’ve just been in my head, is all. I’ll try to not disappoint you.”  
I was embarrassed by his worry, looking towards the ground in silence. A few weeks ago I felt like I was actualizing and overextending my power, and now I just felt it to be arrogance. Now I just felt small. 

I met his gaze, his face somber. Duncan could see right through me, and we both knew it. “I am asking because I care about your health, Samile. I told the First Enchanter I was to take you under my wing, and I consider that a promise. Please, if you have any difficulties, seek me out in the camp… actually, point towards where I will be.”

“Oh, Duncan, please--” I begged him as if I were his child. Even though I was flustered by his concern, I still appreciated it, even if I didn’t show it. I was just upset about the fact that someone had to constantly look out for me.

“Show me.” He crossed his arms, similarly to the First Enchanter, which made feel even worse. I lazily pointed towards the other side of the bridge, not putting much effort into the gesture.

“You’ll be on the other side of the bridge if I need you.” 

“Good.” 

We finally walked across the bridges, me making sure to inspect the view of the expansive wilds. The morning sun was risen, illuminating everything it touched, as well as the trees oscillating from the cool breezes and the river below it all. I could understand why Duncan instantly took in the ruins’ air upon on arrival. Once we reached the end of the bridge, he bid me farewell. I looked back once I was far enough away, but he had already disappeared into his tent. A trace of excitement stirred through me as I realized had the freedom to do whatever I was permitted, at least in the camp. There were no templars monitoring my every move, and I could be in the raw nature whenever I wanted. Maybe the Grey Warden life was the one I desired after all. 

Strolling around the entrance of the camp, I came upon a green and yellow tent that appealed to me. It reminded me of the complementary colors of Circle mage robes and all their intricate designs stitched in into them by skilled tailors. They were delivered to us, and the Senior Mages used enchantments to give them their protections and enhancements, just like the one I still wore. I took a moment to look at my garb, reminiscing about the good moments of living in the Circle Tower. Then I looked to the ring on my right index finger, rubbing the goldness and the insignia on it. The nostalgia had quickly converted to homesickness, leaving me saddened. I had missed knowing the First Enchanter was around, if not readily accessible to any conference. 

The guard I didn’t see in front of the nostalgic tent took notice of my presence. “You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain. State your business.” 

“Oh, I…” A nervousness plagued me that I never experienced before. I knew people in the Circle, but I didn’t know anybody here. Freedom comes with a propensity for uncharted territory, I suppose. “Is… is the teyrn inside?” 

“He’s inside, yes… but I don’t think it’s my place to discuss his activities.” The guard raised a brow, scanning me up and down. I was about to take my walk of shame before he called out to me. “Pssh… I need to air out Loghain’s dirty laundry to someone anyway. You look like an elf that can keep a secret.”

I felt slightly chided by the observation, but I took the opportunity to listen anyway. Maybe it wasn’t worth making a scene about. “Um, sure then.”

He beckoned me to come closer, lowering his voice. “Loghain, right? He and the king have been arguing for days. The teyrns known the king since he was swaddled, so they don’t stand on ceremony. They teyrn speaks his mind, and the king yells right back. Personally, I think the king should do what Teyrn Loghain tells him. Without the teyrn, we wouldn’t be doing as well here as we are.” 

“Hmm. Duncan, the senior Grey Warden, feels the same.” I felt bad exchanging the gossip, but I couldn’t stop now. Now I was really spreadings my wings. 

“Figures, he’s one of the brightest…” He looked off towards the other tents before snapping his attention back to me like he didn’t hear what I said the first time. “How does someone who looks as green as you know a Grey Warden on a first name basis?”

“I don’t know if I’m permitted to say this... but I’m a new recruit.” His eyes widened.

“You’re tugging my chain.” I shook my head, trying to pull the most honest expression possible. “Well, if you are you who say you are, would you desire an audience with the teyrn?”

To be honest, I didn’t know how to respond. From what I can remember of me and Duncan’s trip to Redcliffe, I barely spoke a word to the arl, so what would be the difference between me and the teyrn? “Uh… no, that’s fi--”

“Oh no, I insist. I’ll be back in a moment with the teyrn.” He went inside the tent, exchanging a few words with the people inside the tent-- the teyrn’s posse or whoever it was. My inner panic elevated, not allowing me to sprint away from the tent as fast as possible. In what seemed to be minutes later, the guard came out with the teyrn. He wore similar armor to the king’s, except it was drenched in silver. He also had the same amount of hair, blackened instead of Cailan’s pale blonde. Two small braids hung along each side of his face, his eyes having an abundance of dark circles. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated. 

“Yes, what is it? Ah, you are Duncan’s new Grey Warden, I assume,” The teyrn said. Of course his voice would also foil the king’s. But the interesting fact was that he supposedly already knew me...

“Not officially, n-no.” I prayed he couldn’t sense my being withdrawn. The guard stood behind him, mouthing inspirational words to me. I stopped watching him as soon as I could feel the laughter flooding inside me.

“You impressed his majesty, nonetheless. He could not contain his excitement over your meeting.” He didn’t sound sincere, but I could believe him given our first. “Cailan’s fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?”

“If you’re referring to King Maric, definitely. The Circle rewards those who do them service, making them part of our history. I remember his name being brought up several times during my early apprenticeship.” Maker, I hope I wasn’t embarrassing myself by going on that tangent. To my low expectations, he seemed impressed, widening his eyes and nodding accordingly. The Circle made us sop information like sponges, so that’s why we have such good memories. Mine’s was slowly giving up, however. Recently, I can only remember things through internal stimuli like reminders and images. I digress.

“Maric would have understood that it takes more than legends to win a battle. That’s not an argument I’ll repeat here. I hear you’re from the Circle of Magi. The First Enchanter spoke highly of you-- a great achievement, for one so young. I don’t suppose you’ll be riding into the thick of battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?”

My body reacted to the teyrn saying the familiar name, small vibrations running down my back. I missed him so. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to answer to Duncan before I take any action… it wouldn’t be a good idea on my part.”

“You’re not here for glory, hmm? Fair enough. Now, I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you’re the praying sort.” The teyrn sounded awfully jaded, but I could understand his unease all the same. Even Duncan said that the coming battle would be harder than expected-- but maybe the king might be doing us a favor by being so optimistic about it. His title stands for all of Ferelden, and he has a direct responsibility towards his people. A pessimistic attitude wouldn’t be wise to represent that.

“You’re not confident of the king’s abilities?” I was somewhat disillusioned by his Loghain’s character. He contrasted King Cailan so directly that I was mystified on how they would ever oblige to be in the same room as each other. 

“He is Maric’s son, and leader of my beloved Ferelden. And a very young man. I try to keep that in mind, as should you. Realism must be taken over any sort of fantastical idealism.” He left without any farewell, turning and walking back inside his tent. The guard remained, slowly nodding.

“Nicely done-- don’t worry, he’s usually like that. Brooding type and all,” the guard said, crossing his arms in front of him. “You should probably get along, you don’t wanna keep those Grey Wardens waiting. Promise me you won’t tell anyone about our little discussion, recruit?”

“What discussion?” I replied.

“Perfect. Goodbye, future Grey Warden.” He waved, sending me off. Despite my panic, I felt more confident in my position after the talk with the teyrn, but I still felt out of place in the camp. Nothing I can do about it now, though. Duncan wasn’t going to personally escort me back to Tower saying I no longer wanted be under his wing. I waved back at the guard, going off to explore more of the ruins before meeting up with the Warden that Duncan mentioned. 

I found a wooden kennel in the northeastern section of the camp, almost square in the middle of it. A trainer was placed in front, seeming worried. “This isn’t good…”

Slowly coming up behind him, I glimpsed into the kennel, finding hardy, adult mabaries, some of them injured. My heart leapt at the sight of the wounded animals. “Do you need any help, sir?” 

He haphazardly turned to me, knocked out of his train of thought. “Possibly, yes, I could use some help. Not got much of a choice. You’re the new recruit for the Grey Wardens, aren’t you?”

Was I mentioned to almost everyone in the camp except the one guard was kept in the dark? The trainer looked back to the kennel after one of the mabaris started to heavily pant, laying on its’ side with its’ tongue extended outward. He swung back to my direction. “If you didn’t know before, these are mabari. Smart breed, and strong. This one’s owner died in the last battle, and the poor hound swallowed darkspawn blood. I got medicine that might help, but I need her muzzled first…”

“I-... I don’t know much about properly handling dogs.” In the Circle, there were never any animals or pets, not even familiars. I also wasn’t sure if I could even handle myself, let alone a dog who needs a professional’s help.

“You’re a Grey Warden-- or soon to be, rather. All Wardens are immune to the darkspawn taint. The most you have worry about is tooth marks, but she’s probably too weak to actually bite you.” The trainer handled me a muzzle fit for the mabari. “...Centuries ago, a mage bred them to be smart and understand what they’re told. They can remember and carry out complex orders. Most valuable dogs in the world. Trouble is they generally imprint to one master; re-imprinting is difficult. But without the medicine, re-imprinting won’t be an issue.”

“So, there’s a chance the mabari could imprint on me?” I approached the kennel’s thick wooden gates, inspecting the hound. I could see her regurgitating something that wouldn’t come up, dry heaving and exhausting herself. The trainer was right-- now that I’m a Grey Warden, or soon to be, I have my own responsibility to assist others to the best of my ability. My sympathy was too great for me to leave the dog in its’ current state.

“Yes, there’s a chance. We’ll see.” The trainer opened the kennel carefully, trying not to alert the sick mabari. Keeping his hand on the gate, he looked back at me, motioning me in. “Just let her smell you. We’ll know right away if she’ll respond… let’s hope this works. I would hate to have to put her down.”

I snuck into kennel, the sound of my boots muffled over the forage laid across it. The mabari instantly saw me, picking up its’ head and staring in my way. She didn’t move, however, only just looking at me. I could see the intelligence that the trainer spoke of in her eyes, as well as a great pain. I slowly stepped towards her, the muzzle in my left hand. She growled weakly, but she didn’t challenge me either. Tensely, I bent down, nearing my right hand close to her nose and smiling to comfort her. On instinct, she sniffed my hand, still eyeing me closely. Taking the muzzle in my left hand, I easily brought it up to her snout, reaching over her head to clip the loose binding hanging around the back of her neck. She whined, resting her head on the floor, still watching me her pained, intelligent eyes. I backed away out of the kennel, respecting her space. The trainer closed the gate, making sure to lock it behind me.

“Well done!” The trainer congratulated. “Now I can treat the dog properly-- poor girl. Come to think of it, are you heading into the wilds any time soon?”

“Possibly, I’m not sure. We may, just for the preparation of our ceremony.” Honestly, I could’ve been lying through my teeth. I don’t think Duncan would let any recruits near the Wilds, but I made a subconscious promise to this dog’s health. 

“There’s a particular herb I could use to improve the dog’s chances, you see. It’s a flower that grows in the swamps here-- it’s very distinctive: all white with a blood-red center. If you happen to come across it, I could use it.” He dusted off his fingerless gloves.

“I’ll see if I can find one.” 

“I appreciate it, greatly. It usually grows in dead wood that collects at the edge of ground pools. There should be plenty this time of year. In the meantime, I’ll begin treating our poor friend.” He abruptly shook my hand, stressing his appreciation. “Thank you, Grey Warden.” 

“Of course, it’s the least I could do.” The service made me feel good. At least I could redeem my actions at the Tower indirectly, carrying out the service that the First Enchanter spoke of. I said my goodbyes, getting one more glimpse of the mabari as I did so. She looked back at me, lapping her tongue openly as her own farewell.

Heading over to the district to the left of the kennel, I came upon soldiers kneeling before a Chantry priestess on a wooden stage above them. She raised her hands towards the sky, eyes closed as she invoked a religious prayer. “Watch over Ferelden, the homeland of holy Andraste. Keep her people safe from the darkspawn. Let us bow our heads and offer prayers to the Maker, that He might find us worthy.”

An impenetrable silence came over them. Nearby, I saw a female mage leaning against a tree, arms crossed and deeply in thought, staring at them alongside me. She seemed to be merely observing the prayer. She looked familiar, having white locks bound into a short ponytail, creased, pale skin, and a mage’s robe with various shades of brown, light and dark. I approached her, eager to see another mage, even it wasn’t a face I completely knew. Sensing my presence, she looked up to me, a smile spreading across her lips that reminded me of the fatherly First Enchanter. “What do we have here? I heard the new Grey Warden recruit was from the Circle. I don’t believe we’ve officially met, but I’ve heard a lot about your talent. My name is Wynne, and I congratulate you on your Harrowing. Marvelous work, the Fade is a dangerous place.” 

Speculations were really going around my recruitment… out of the blue, my mind snapped back to conversation between the Knight-Commander, First Enchanter, and Duncan. “Greagoir and Irving spoke of you. And yes, the Harrowing was, well… harrowing, to say the least.”

She strengthened her smile upon hearing my reply. “I thought the same. It’s good you can admit that. So, a Grey Warden… fighting alongside the king. Not too shabby for someone just out of apprenticeship.”

“I think I might be a bit overwhelmed… some things happened back at the Circle that I don’t wish to speak of. I’m just afraid to disappoint anyone.” I sighed, comprehending the gravity of the circumstances and my own involvement in them. Wynne seemed a little disheartened, her once warm smile disappearing.

“Ah, child… you’ve been taught tell. Use what you know and have faith in yourself. Mages have always been pivotal in the fight against darkspawn. Perhaps you’ll be the one to turn the tide this time.” 

I truly considered what she said, nodding. All the messages I’ve been getting have been telling me to own my power, but I was frightened that I would abuse it or use it for any other negative deed. In my moment of contemplation, the reality that I was seeing in front of me started to become unfamiliar… not again. I breathed in the camp’s air, steadying myself back into the physical world. “Have you faced them before?”

“Some. Have you? Do you know about the connection between them and the Fade, for example?” She wrinkled her forehead in concern, noticing my behavior. I couldn’t determine if she asked me the question to distract me or if she genuinely wanted to know.

“No, not at all. I’ve always believed that demons and spirits were otherworldly terrors, and darkspawn a physical terror. Or perhaps you’re talking about the creation of the Black City?” I recalled the blackness looming in the sky of the dreary Fade dreamscape.

“Yes, exactly. Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when mages from the Tevinter Imperium found a way into the City, it was tainted with their sin…” Her eyes carried an ambiguous intrigue. “That taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts. And the Maker cast them back to the earth, where they became the first darkspawn. At least, that’s what the Chant of Light says.”

“Hmm. I’ve heard the story before, but not as in depth. The men were transformed into twisted reflections of their own hearts, contributed from their own sin… what a reminder to not abuse your capabilities as a mage.” Magic is meant to serve man… and not rule him. The directive that the enchanters and templars stressed to reinforce in apprentices made much more sense to me now that I was a mage, and now a Grey-Warden-to-be. My freedom was to be used responsibly, or else I’d be abusing its’ boundlessness. Mouse’s demented voice rang in my mind, “preconceived thoughts… careless trust… and pride…”

Wynne smiled again, agreeing with my summary. “Your insight is spectacular. It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human suffering. Or it may be true. It is as good as any explanation for now.” 

“It’s something to think about.” Something I’ve always liked about magic lore is the subjectivity of it. You could interpret things as personal or objective, reinforcing the notion of our molding of realities.

“Yes, occasionally it’s wise to contemplate one’s actions. But in your case, don’t ponder too much. You can drown yourself in waves of guilt, but it won’t help you redeem your actions. Only you can do so. You can trust me, as I’ve been in your position many years ago when I was just becoming a mage.” Her speeches reminded me of the First Enchanter too, always so enlightening and provoking introspection. But, maybe she was right. Expending guilt over my actions was more easier than actually doing something about them, but ultimately…

“But I’m certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me. There seems to be another Grey Warden on the eastern side of this particular ruin, he seems to have been waiting for a long while. I think it’d be wise for you to talk to him, if you’re not planning to explore more of the camp.”

That must’ve been Alistair, but I would have no way to no. Duncans did say there were only a few Wardens here though, besides me... I guess I could take a look. “Goodbye Wynne, hopefully we get to talk more after our ceremony.”

“I’d like that very much. Oh, I’m so sorry-- what is your name?” She raised as hand to her forehead.

“It’s fine, we were just wrapped up in discussion! My name is Samile.”

“It was nice to discuss things with you, Samile. Go on, don’t let me stop you from your tasks.” I bowed to her out of respect, proceeding to walk to the ruins she mentioned. Time to prepare for the Joining, if the unknown Warden is who I speculate he is.


	10. Meeting Alistair

Coming into the eastern ruins, it seemed to be the most regal section of Ostagar, generally. Faded, but still alluring stone statues dotted the crumbled walls, and the foundation of the area still had a noticeable surface besides dirt and soil. A dinner table that almost stretched towards the walls of the ruin, being prepped by laborers that had… long ears? 

I was unsure of what I saw, and I stepped closer to confirm what I was seeing. It was as I thought: they were elves. An excited energy sprung inside me, but I didn’t want to disrupt them at the same time. Some of them actually turned around, even though it was impossible for them to know I was even here. They momentarily stopped fixing the table to view me, an obscure look on their faces. They were scrawny, cheaply clothed, and shoeless. I was already informed that Dalish elves were primarily bare on their feet, but I had a feeling that something more sinister was happening. At once, they all looked to their left, picking up the pace of their work and refusing to acknowledge me afterwards. A soldier slowly stepped into the wreckage, standing away from me but clearly aware of my presence. One of the older elves directed an eye towards me as they wiped.

“Keep away,” she mouthed frantically.

I was always aware of the everyday servitude of the elves, but I wasn’t expecting to see it among the prestigious orders in Ostagar, especially under the Grey Wardens and the King of Ferelden of all people. Human superiority had no bounds in its’ cruelty, and it only sought to upkeep the poverty that it instilled in our race ever since we came into connection. What I wouldn’t give to recollect every piece of our history that was revisioned or lost to time… everything. Taking the older elf’s advice, I quickly stepped up the staircase that lead to the opposite end of the ruins, unwilling to look back.

On the upper level was a male, human mage in a robe similar to Wynne’s, arguing with a man in a Warden’s outfit that was more plated compared to Duncan’s. The Warden’s had hair of a ginger color, short and spiky, coming to a peak at the front with stray cowlicks. He also had a growing beard that matched the same color, and a light brown complexion that complimented the features. It might’ve just been a quirk, but his ears looked ever so slightly tipped, similar to an elf’s. Despite all of this, he somewhat beared a resemblance to King Cailan, most noticeably in the softness of his face.

Listening to the mage ramble on, the Warden held a consistently relaxed, yet provocative expression that roused the former gradually.

“What is it now? Haven’t Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?” The mage claimed.

“I simply claim to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence,” The Warden said matter-of-factly. 

“What her Reverence ‘desires’ is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens-- by the king’s order, I might add!” I watched from a few feet away, planning to step in if it got too violent. I don’t think the Warden nor the mage would allow it to get that far, however.

“Should I have asked her to write a note?”

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!”

“Yes, I was harassing you by giving you a message.”

“Your glibness does you no credit.”

“Here I thought we were getting along well! I was even going to name of my children after you… the grumpy one.” His tone changed gravely, but he still carried the same expression.

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must!” The mage rose his hands above him, disengaging from the argument. He stomped away right pass me, puffing with visible irritation. 

The Warden smoldered at his back as he walked, shaking his head and then turning his attention to the unintentional witness that was, well, me. I also watched the mage leave as I traipsed up to the mysterious Warden. Coming closer to him, I could see he was fairly taller than me, towering above me by a half dozen inches like Duncan, or anyone else that was over five feet and six inches for that matter. Curse my elven shortness. 

“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” he stated to me, putting a mock-up dreamy emphasis on his voice.

“I can sense what you mean.” I looked back to him, grinning nervously. I didn’t realize it before, but the frame of his body was quite broad, the fabric under his armor contouring to his figure and highlighting the brawniness underneath.

“It’s like a party; we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about…” He placed a mocking hand under his unshaven chin. “Wait, we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

“Yes, I am a mage. But I don’t think I’d have such a problem with someone I’d just met.” I slid my loose coils behind my ears, simultaneously feeling their growing length. 

“Really? You don’t look like a mage.” Was he serious? I tilted my head with a thumb pointing at the long wooden staff poking out from behind me. 

“Uh… that is… I mean… how interesting.” It was an awful recovery that forced me to raise an eyebrow, but I smiled. To be honest, he reminded me of Jowan before everything… happened. Before I became a mage and messed up everything. “Wait, I do know you who you are. You’re Duncan’s new recruit, from the Circle of Magi! I should have recognized you right away, I apologize. It was Samile, if I can remember correctly?” 

“Yes, and no harm done at all. And if I’m guessing, you must be Alistair?”

“See, look at the Blight bringing everyone together, no matter how indirect or unpredictable. Did Duncan mention me? Nothing bad, I hope.” He appeared to be worried, but I could tell he wasn’t serious about it. 

“Don’t worry, he just mentioned that you were one of the only Grey Wardens here, besides the Joining preparation.” 

“Oh, right. As the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.” 

“Accompanying?” Was it really that difficult that we needed an actual Warden by our side?

“Yeah, I know, I wanted to do the preparation by myself when I first joined the order.” I think he mistook my questioning. “But, I’m curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?” 

“No, but I know of the tale behind their background. Have you?”

He rolled his eyes similarly to the king, but it wasn’t as odd as much as it was genuine annoyance. “Yes, the tale of the Tevinter magisters venturing into the Golden City and all that. But, anyway, yes-- to your question, I mean. When I fought my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was. I can’t say I’m looking forward to encountering another.”

“Sorry for mentioning the Chant.” I shyly twiddled with my enchanted ring, rubbing the texture of the insignia. “The experience sounds similar to one of my tests in Circle, but I don’t know if I’ll have the same resistance if they’re as monstrous as you say.”

He shook his head numerous times. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just tire of the Chantry sometimes. It’s all a long story that you don’t wanna hear about. Anyway, how was it similar?”

“I just link demons to darkspawn often.” I don’t think I meant to say it so bluntly unexplained, but the topic would probably take up the night if I wanted to give a history lesson on it.

“Ah, the Harrowing?” I looked up at him from the ring in my hands in surprise. How would a Grey Warden know of the Harrowing? 

“...Yes.” I smiled, sliding the ring back on my index finger. I’ll just quiz him about that when I get the time. He light chuckled, seeming to radiate whenever he grinned with his teeth.

“I understand. Anyhow, let’s head back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started, especially if all goes smoothly.” He bit the bottom right side of his lip, stretching his neck upwards to view the main camp in the distance.

I was about to lead when I recalled something that Duncan mentioned. “Wait, what about the other recruits? Aren’t they still waiting for me?” We shouldn’t make them any longer.”

“Calm down, calm down. They’re probably already waiting with him, now that it’s almost near noon.” He raised both of his hands to settle me, trying to hide the laughter with his speech.

I sighed, relinquishing my doubt. I assumed he would know better than me, being a junior Warden. “Sorry, Duncan stressed the guidelines…”

He laughed with me, recognizing Duncan’s rigidity. “Well, get used to things being up in the air for a while. Also, don’t apologize so much, it makes me feel bad.” 

“Oh, sorr--” I cut myself off, feeling a flush rising in my cheeks. My communication to the outside world was going off to a wonderful, charming start.

“I’m just messing with you, I like joking with the new recruits. Usually it makes them feel comfortable, but if it gets annoying-- and I can be pretty annoying-- I’ll stop.” He winked, bending his fingers into an “OK” sign. Succeeding, he made me utter a half-suppressed snicker through my new grin.

“See, that’s the smile I’m looking for.” He confidently pointed towards my lips, painting his mouth in that radiating grin. I admit, I needed the distraction. Hypothetically, if the coming battle went left, whatever traces of joy left in the world would disappear all at once, and there was no foretelling of when we could take it back for all of Ferelden. It makes sense to appreciate and relish in all the laughter and good days before they all went away, and I think that’s why King Cailan and Alistair’s attitude mattered. They were the lights at the end of the dark tunnel that was the Blight. 

“I look forward to travelling with you in the future.”

Alistair tilted his neck backwards slightly, showing the hairy underside of his chin. “You do? Huh. That’s a switch. Anyway, if you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, let’s head back to Duncan before he skins us alive.”

“Agreed.” We descended down the ruins, exiting to the left of them. I still refused to look back at those elven servants. Advancing to the camp grounds, a casual silence was passed between us. Perfect time for a quiz.

“Alistair, mind I if interrogate you a bit?” I said, trying to mirror his steps.

“Not at all, except not on anything humiliating.” A thin smile was spread on his lips as he glanced downwards at me.

“How did you know of the Harrowing before? When I told you about my experiences in the Circle, I mean.” 

His eyes glazed upward as he took a deep breath. “That definitely requires some explanation. Well, first off, remember that mage I was disputing with earlier?”

“I can’t forget it. He was about to turn you into a rodent, it seems.” 

He hissed between his teeth, gritting them. “Yeah, that got ugly very fast. Anyway, the Circle is here at the king’s request and the Chantry doesn’t like that one bit. They just love letting mages know how unwelcome they are. Have you any problems with that, by the way?”

“No, not really. In fact, it seemed like everyone already knew about me before we even got here…”

“That must’ve been Duncan’s influence. He’s protective like that.” He softened his voice, giving another thin smile.

“I’ve seen it firsthand, you should’ve seen him scolding me on the bridge earlier.” I shook my head, not at Duncan, but at my condition that made him do it in the first place. His paternal instincts seem to be a recurring trait of his, though. Alistair sparsely chuckled before he continued his explanation.

“The revered mother put me in a bit of an awkward position. I was once a templar, you see...” He side-eyed me, trying to get glances at my reaction. 

“Oh. I’m sure that’d be awkward.” I furrowed my brows. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before-- anyone could be inducted into the order. And a templar would especially know all about the Chant, or the process and the potential aftermath of a Harrowing.

“Yeah, and I’m sure she didn’t mean it an insult-- sending me as her messenger-- but the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we’re all to cooperate and get along. Apparently, they didn’t get the same speech.”

We stopped at the center of the main camp, Duncan waiting ahead with two other men, one dressed in rough leather body armor and the other clad in simple gray iron, both revealing their heads. A bonfire was placed between the three, which called attention to Duncan’s wrinkles and graying hair. The way the light reflected in his eyes and how he peered it into revealed his obvious exhaustion. He was already aware of our attendance, strolling towards us. 

“You found Alistair, did you? Good, I’ll assume you are ready to begin preparations,” Duncan announced, first looking at me. He then disapprovingly looked to Alistair, who recoiled a little upon his intense stare. I won’t lie-- I almost laughed. “Assuming, of course, that you’re quite finished riling up mages, Alistair. I hope you didn’t trouble our new recruit as well.”

Alistair shrugged. “What can I say, the revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army. Also, no, our new recruit had a way better attitude.”

Duncan rubbed his beard, squinting at him. “She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don’t need to give anyone more ammunition against us.” 

Alistair nodded, taking his words seriously and straightening himself. “I apologize, Duncan.”

Duncan motioned me to step towards the recruits in the back and I followed the request, standing alongside them. Of course, they were both grown men that towered over me. He set his gaze upon the vigilant man with a receding hairline. Unexpectedly, Alistair began to speak, clearing his throat accordingly.

“This is Ser Jory, a knight from Redcliffe.” Jory looked towards me, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He looked like someone’s father.

“How do you do?” He said, giving one affirmative nod. I gave one back instinctually.

Alistair promptly looked towards the second recruit. “And this is Daveth, a… fellow from Denerim.” 

“Charmed.” Daveth grinned. The light of the bonfire reflected off of his dark, slicked hair and illuminated the sideburns that covered the entirety of his cheeks. The three of us were definitely an unlikely trio-- but maybe I was just being pessimistic. Obviously they weren’t underqualified for the order if they were inducted. Finally, Alistair looked to me, appearing to smile on purpose to get a rise out of me.

“And this, of course, is the recruit that Duncan said he was bringing, Samile, coming from the Circle of Magi.” 

“Pleased to meet you both.” I briefly bowed my head towards them. 

“Now then, since you’re all here, we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to solve two tasks…” I knew it. “ The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit. There was once a Grey Warden archive in the wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them.”

Duncan turned his head to Alistair, deflecting his gaze from the rest of us. “Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.” 

“Understood,” Alistair replied. I made a mental note for myself, “...find the archive and three vials of blood.”

Duncan now passed glances between the three of us. “The archive will be in an overgrown ruin by now, but the sealed chest the scrolls are in will likely still be intact. Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search.”

Alistair scrunched his forehead, as well as crossed his arms across against his armor’s iron plating. “I don’t understand. Why leave such things in a ruin if they’re so valuable?”

Our superior clutched his wrists behind his back. “It was assumed we would someday return. A great many things were assumed that have not held true.” 

I raised my hand like I was still a student of the Circle, only just above my shoulders. “Is this part of our Joining too?”

“No, but the effort must be made. I have every confidence you are up to the task.” Everyone intently stared at me before Duncan spoke up. “Watch over you charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely.”

“We will,” Alistair said, balling a fist and placing it over his heart. A salute, I presume.

“Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when we return.”


	11. Wildcraft

Me, Alistair, and the other two recruits approached the grand wooden gates that blocked the main camp from the Korcari Wilds. The sentry already planted there stood attention to our squad, arms to his sides and eyes firm on each four of us. One mabari stood with him, covered in red warpaint and darkened brown fur. The hound stood upon its’ legs and observed us as well, a low growl indicating its’ nerve to attack if directed. 

“Calm yourself,” the sentry hushed the mabari, making it quiet down posthaste. “I’m told you all have business in the wilds. The gate’s open for you… just be careful out there. Even a Grey Warden won’t be safe in the forest tonight,” he moved to the front of the gate, pulling the handles placed in the middle of the gate outward. The four of us took the opportunity to enter through the opening left side, decreasing the time for the sentry to close the gate straight away. One thing I noticed about every affair in the camp was the all-or-nothing air. Everything was either swift or lengthily prolonged, and whatever was negligible wasn’t important enough to spend time on. I was used to things being drawn out, but definitely not quickened.

Alistair lead us through the southern stretch of the Wilds, with it’s deep, grimy swamps and uncharted forests. He held his breath, trying to avoid inhaling the scent of the wilds’ unpleasant air. Daveth walked a few feet apart from me, Jory and Alistair being ahead of us but also separated. He freely drew breath, inspecting the wilds’ floor as we hiked through. 

“Samile, was it?” Daveth asked, now directing his eyes towards me.

“Uh, yes,” I answered, a little shaken from the direct breach of the Wilds’ looming stillness. I repeatedly twisted my hands together, not because it was cold, but that I could do something to ease myself into the wilderness. 

“If I may ask, how old are you?” His interrogative inflection made me believe the question was already on his mind from the first time he saw me.

“I turned eighteen in Kingsway.” The sixteenth of Kingsway, 9:11 was my birthdate. I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t the youngest person in the entire camp, and the thought of it made me insecure. Here were all these experienced warriors and there I was-- a sheltered, magical baby elf.

“Really? I thought you were even younger.” Daveth’s usual, suave pitch went onto the next octave. I bit my tongue at the reaction, bobbing my head to conceal my festering insecurity. 

“Mhmm. The Circle gives mages’ their full rights to adulthood when they pass their final task, which is usually at sixteen or eighteen, depending on the person. I was just at the tail end.”

Jory grunted, looking back at me his wide-reaching eyes. “In my opinion, battle should only be left to the seasoned, but I mean no disrespect by saying that,” he affirmed me, but it didn’t make me feel any better, “Duncan must’ve seen something in you that made you unique to the cause.” 

“You’d be surprised to know how normal that is,” Alistair chimed in, still ahead of us, “Duncan only inducted me when I was nineteen.” 

“Huh. See, you don’t look your age at all,” Daveth said, taking the words directly out of mouth. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told. As an insult and condescending praise both.” I wasn’t sure if Alistair meant it to be an underhanded rebuttal, but Daveth backed down, clearing his throat and muting himself after. Jory was already quiet before Alistair spoke up. I took some solace in Alistair’s admission. It made me feel more… valid, I suppose. Then, Alistair stopped leading, arming himself with longsword and metal kite shield. "We have some wild wolves ahead.”

Daveth and Jory armed themselves with a wooden shortbow and iron greatsword, respectively. I stayed behind, grasping my staff with both hands. As Alistair said, a pack of five adult wolves patrolled ahead of us. The leader of the pack slowly advanced towards us in hunting mode, eyes dilated, tipping its’ head down, and licking its’ lips. Once it came close enough to Alistair, it winced, wildly shaking its’ head and sneezing. The other pack members started to pull back once they saw their leader in distress. The leader pulled back as well, snarling and baring its’ fangs. All at once, they darted off to some western part of the wilds.

“Well, thank the taint, despite all the harm it does,” Alistair sighed, lowering his weaponry but still keeping his guard up.

“The taint?” I asked, tilting my head and lowering my staff to my hip. 

Alistair looked back at me, puffing up his cheeks like a squirrel. He released the built-up air at once, making a popping sound that echoed around us. “Can’t saying anything. You’ll find out later,” he responded, avoiding my gaze and continuing to lead. There was no use pestering him if he wasn’t directly lying.

The scent of fresh blood invaded my nose, making me block my nostrils with the fabric of my robe. We rounded around a small swamp pool, finding the bodies of soldiers and bulls strewn across a path to a nearby ruin. The sight disoriented me and gave me that gut-wrenching feeling I was all too familiar with. “Wha…”

A voice called out to us among the bodies, “over here…” A foot soldier laid at the end of the bodies, dragging his injured self through the muddy waste. “Who… is that? Grey… Wardens?”  
We grouped ourselves around the soldier, me bending down on my ankles to meet him but not dirty up the lining of my robe as well. 

“Well, he’s not half as dead as he looks, is he?” Alistair crudely said. I glared upward daggers at him for the tasteless comment. “Inappropriate, sorry.” I saw him scratching the back of his head before I redirected my attention to the poor man. 

“My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn… They came out the ground… You have to help, I… I’ve got to return to camp…” He attempted to speak as clearly as he could. 

“I have bandages in my--” Alistair spoke, reaching around the belt near his tabard.

“No need. This should be quicker,” I insisted, balling my fists and channeling a restorative energy through the pressure. My hands glowed a bright blue after a matter of seconds, my magic reacting to the concern I had for the soldier and fortifying the power. That wasn’t good. I didn’t take it for granted however, taking the hands of the soldier and transferring the energy through my palms into his. The wounds that I could see started to close, his skin reforming to its’ prior state before he was attacked. Soon, all that was left were blood stains. 

The soldier miraculously stood, taking his hands out of mine and gripping his abdomen. “Thank you!” He groaned. “I’ve… I’ve got to get out of here!” Alistair moved out of the foot soldier’s way, letting him limp through between us. I stayed on the floor, dizzy from the exertion. I hadn’t practiced any magic since the day I left the Tower, so I wasn’t desensitized from using my mana anymore. Wonderful. 

“Impressive,” I heard Daveth say behind me. 

“Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!” Jory reported, his armor clinking as he turned to who I assumed was Alistair. 

“Calm down, Ser Jory. We’ll be fine if we’re careful,” Alistair countered.

“Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed. How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There’s an entire army in these forests!” 

Alistair lowly sighed. “There are darkspawn about, but we’re in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde.”

“How do you know? I’m not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back.” 

“Overcoming darkspawn is part of our task. We can’t stop here. Ferelden’s people are depending on us,” I said, regaining my senses, rising off of the ground. Alistair stood beside me, tucking his arm inside my elbow pit and carefully lifting me. “Thank you… I’m fine now.” 

“That’s… true.” Jory’s voice was reassured but carried a hint of doubt. 

Alistair released the grip of his arm from my elbow, the warmth that once occupied the spot dying out. “Know this: All Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won’t take us by surprise. That’s why I’m here,” Alistair encouraged us, speaking in a calm, steady tone. His reaffirming words and behavior impelled me to take some faith in him. 

“You see, ser knight? We might die, but we’ll be warned about it first,” Daveth quipped, finishing his inspection of the corpses and carcasses around us.

“That is… reassuring?” Jory arched his eyebrows, making his eyes larger than they already were.

“This doesn’t mean I’m here to make this easy, however. So let’s get a move on.” Before leading on, Alistair checked in with me, leaning into my shoulder and placing a hand between my shoulder blades. “You’ll be fine?” I faced myself downward, nodding. All of the physical security unnerved me, but also drew me closer to him. I was just thankful, I think.

“Of course.” I tried slicking my hair back, but my curls only sprung back to a coily mess. I tried to smile at him through my bangs. Alistair smiled back at me, proceeding to leave my side and continue on to the ruins ahead of us. Even though he believed he wasn’t a leader, it couldn’t be more apparent that he had the potential to be one. I wouldn’t force that role on him if he didn’t admire it, though.

The more we delved deeper into the unending wilds, the more we were progressively on edge. The sighting of soldiers’ bodies hanging under overpasses and bound by their necks was more common than locating any darkspawn corpse, which worried me even further. Alistair continually reminded us of his darkspawn sense, saying that, “if any were here, they would’ve already shown themselves.” I walked with my staff digging into the mud, avoiding any of the peculiar scents. Passing abandoned camps and among the bleakness of the wilds, I found a dash of color resting on the side of a mossy, fallen tree: an all white flower with a blood-red center. The appearance of the flower struck me… as if I needed it some purpose… the mabari hound. I departed from the group, bending down to retrieve it. 

“What are you picking flowers for? Spellcraft?” Daveth said, standing behind me. I couldn’t hear any of the others’ footsteps, so I assumed they were just waiting for me. I looked back at Daveth, squinting my eyes from the rays of the afternoon sun that his body couldn’t block.

“No. Let’s just say I made a promise, and let’s keep it at that.” I detached the flower’s stem from the dirt floor, tucking it in a small pouch that was placed on the front of my robe. “Sorry for the sudden detour, everyone.” None of them seemed to care except Daveth, who I walked right past. I joined Alistair and Jory, both of them waiting until I was in the group to start walking again. Alistair stepped over to my side. 

“Why were you picking those?” He whispered. 

“A mabari trainer asked me for it. He’s preparing something for one of the dogs that swallowed darkspawn blood. I don’t know how it’ll help him, but I’ll try anything.” I kept a hand in my pouch, feeling the soft petals of the flower.

I seemed to hit a weak spot in Alistair, as he began to frown at me. “Aww, how noble of you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes at his mocking, making him giggle. “You should’ve seen her, Alistair… it was awful. She kept hacking and choking but nothing ever came up. I couldn’t just sit there and not doing anything about it.” 

He seriously began to frown now, no humor in his expression. “You know, if you helped it, it could’ve imprinted on you. Mabari hounds are known to do that if they don’t have a master.”

“That’s what the trainer told me. I hope everything works out…”

“It will. They’re hearty breeds. Do you mind if I see the flower?” Alistair reached out to me one with one hand, me pulling out the flower from my pouch and resting it on his palm. He warily held up the flower, pressing it with his large thumb and index finger. “Andraste’s grace…”

“I know, it’s very beautiful.” 

“No, I mean, that’s what the flower is called: Andraste’s Grace.” He hovered the flower below his nose, inhaling its’ aroma. “Maker, that brings back memories. The sisters always hung these around the chantries on shelves and vases. It’s one of the more fonder memories I have as a templar, I’d say.” A faint smile replaced his frown as he handed the flower over to me. My fingers brushed over his as I placed mine almost directly under the base of the petals. “Please save that mabari, Samile. You’re doing a good thing.”

“I already promised the trainer I would.” I eyed the center of the flower, captured by its’ red center. My vision focused onto its’ figure as I ignored the grand ruins we were coming onto.

“Alistair, would those ruins be the lost archives?” Jory asked, nodding once over at the ruins ahead.

“They just might…” Alistair proceeded towards the ruin before stopping in his path. He peered back at us, an unnatural quiet possessing him. “Darkspawn… I can feel them around us somewhere. Arm yourselves.” 

Through the silence of the woods, I could hear my heart beating ever faster as a nervous energy spiked through me. I quickly tucked the flower back into my pouch, reassessing my grip on my staff where it wasn’t wet with perspiration. I looked to Jory and Daveth, already equipped with their own weapons. 

This was the moment we collectively dreaded. We examined the area near the archives, waiting for them to rise out of the ground as the foot soldier told us. We all stopped moving at once, my pulsing heart almost reaching a climax before the dirt around us blackened and warped itself inward, humanoid, ashen hands reaching out of the tainted earth. The darkspawn forcefully climbed their way out of the earth, emitting blood-curdling roars as they birthed themselves to the surface. From the back of the tiny horde, one of the creatures stood to the front, forming its’ own staff from the blackened earth. Though its’ face was bound with reddened, dirty cloth, I could see an empty blackness where its’ eyes were supposed to be, meeting my gaze. Daveth forced me back by pressing his forearm against my chest, stepping back, “Let Alistair and Jory do the heavy lifting. We can support them from the rear.”

The evident leader of the horde gave a hollow, vile chuckle, sending off its’ blood hungry soldiers with a direction of its’ hand facing our position. In an instant, we were engaged, Alistair grunting as he deflected sword blows and countered with his own blade, Jory’s battle cries as he swung away at the creatures, and Daveth stretching his bow’s string as he prepared to propel salvos of arrows. There was too much action, too much movement. Something had to stop. I willed a paralytic energy into my staff, sliding my hands over the entirety of it. I revolved the staff in the air, setting it down on the pure earth. A large glyph generated itself beneath the soldiers’ feet, paralyzing them in place. My vision turned wobbly and I found myself crouching to the floor, watching my team’s swords and arrows pierce the halted darkspawn. 

“Hey! Don’t give up on us now,” Daveth shouted at me, still firing away. I braced myself, gathering all my strength to hoist myself off the ground. My effort turned out to be fruitless, as Daveth and I were swept off of our feet by a telekinetic force. My stomach turned as we were tossed in the air, the pain settling in as we impacted the ground. The sensation never stopped. I felt myself unable to move, and then a greater pain came that made my body feel like it was being crushed. I cried out from the pain, and I’m sure I could hear Daveth doing the same. 

“Dammit, Samile and Daveth--" Alistair called out. The prison wouldn’t let me even look up to see what was going on his and Jory’s end. “--Jory, I’ll rally the grunts, just get the mage-looking one now!” My consciousness was quickly fading from me. They wouldn’t get to the leader before I passed out or died. Irving... I’m sorry you wasted your hope on me. 

“W-what manner of…” Jory stammered. I heard the crunching of flesh ahead of me, the immobilizing pain subsiding and then completely disappearing. I whimpered, as now the only pain that plagued me now was from the impact. I attempted to flip myself over to view the ongoing battle. The struggle ended, Alistair at a stand off with a few remaining darkspawn that were pulling back, almost seeming hesitant to fight more. Jory was clutching his greatsword off to his side, observing a spider the size of a mabari feasting upon the leader’s head. A shrill screech came from between the arachnid’s fangs as it stopped devouring and leaped into the air, now forming into a cloud of insects that swarmed around the remaining darkspawn. Alistair and Jory evaded the swarm, withdrawing back to Jory and I. I closed my strained eyes once I had confidence that the battle was over. The soreness disallowed me to rest, so I wasn’t going to pass out-- or die-- anytime soon. 

“Are you vultures, I wonder? Scavengers poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long cleaned?” A feminine, refined voice spoke. I opened my eyes to the image of a woman with black hair and piercing amber eyes, dressed in black and violet. “Or merely intruders, coming into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? What say you, hmm? Scavengers or intruders?”

Alistair raised me onto my feet, a hand on my hip and one of my arms slung around his shoulder. “None of us are. The Grey Wardens owned this tower once,” I replied, surprised I could even get a word out without struggling. Daveth had recovered, refusing Jory’s assistance and putting weight on his right leg. He hissed through the pain, hobbling over to us while Jory was a few steps behind him. 

“‘Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse,” she strutted around our incapacitated group in a ring, keeping a watchful eye on each of us, “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘why are they here?’” She stopped once she completed a full ring, “and now you intend to disturb ashes none have touched for so long? Why is that?” 

Alistair spoke without leaving her gaze. “Don’t answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby--”

“Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” She smirked, raising her hands and forming them into mocking claws.

“Yes… swooping is bad,” Alistair muttered back. 

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She’ll turn us into toads!” Speaking too abruptly, Daveth choked on his words. 

“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no mind of your own?” The woman stood with her hands placed on both of her hips. She then stared at me directly, looking me up and down. “You there. Mages do not frighten like warriors. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“...Samile, if you must know,” I answered, ignoring Alistair’s command. 

She smiled. "You may call me Morrigan, if you wish.” Morrigan started back to the ruins at a slow pace, head turned to her side, “Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest ahead, something that is here no longer? 

“‘Here no longer?’ You stole them, didn’t you? You’re… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!” Alistair accused. He actually made her stop in her tracks and turn around. 

“How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?” 

“Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.”

“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened…” I could tell we wouldn’t break through her defenses easily, we weren’t even scratching her surface now. If she truly owned these wilds, things would have to take a more diplomatic approach.

“Can you tell us who removed them then?” I asked, Alistair speechless.

“‘Twas my mother, in fact.” A honest answer for an honest question, I guess. I had to prod more.

“Would it be an option for you to perhaps take us to her?” 

Morrigan hummed, tapping her fingers on her crossed arms. “There is a sensible request. I like you.” 

Alistair reared back his head. “I’d be careful with that. First it’s, ‘I like you…’ but then ‘Zap!’ Frog time.” 

“She’ll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch,” Daveth said, clearly terrified. 

Jory watched us, taking on an expression I could only see as disapproving. “If the pot is warmer than this forest, it’d be a nice change.” 

“Follow me then, if it pleases you,” Morrigan said, disappearing beyond the ruins.


	12. Second Rite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, the Junior warden, and the other two recruits were saved by a witch from a darkspawn ambush. Once reluctant to give you answers, she decides to guide you to her mother's hut where she carries the old Grey Warden treaties. Finally, you can get back to Ostagar and initiate the Joining ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the three week wait! I've been having some on-and-off problems throughout the course of this month, so I haven't been able to update much. The situation subsided a little bit, so now I can update more frequently like I used to. I actually wrote more chapters besides this one but I just didn't have the time to post, so here's a sort of late Christmas present to you all if you enjoy reading this.  
> Trigger Warning: Blood, Dissociative Episode

Still following along with our preparation for the Joining, we drew blood from three darkspawn corpses before following Morrigan to wherever her mother was. Despite the persistent pain, me and Daveth could walk, albeit unhurriedly. Alistair and Jory were sure to stick behind us in case we were to collapse along the path behind the ruins, leading to a small, wooden hut. Outdoor torches marked the hut as being separated from the rest of the wilds, as it could be assumed Morrigan and her mother were the only two people to make it hospitable. An aged woman with dark gray hair and the same piercing amber eyes as Morrigan waited ahead, dressed in tattered commoner’s clothing. Something about her was… foreboding. 

“Greetings, Mother. I bring before you four Grey Wardens who--” Morrigan said as she approached, being cut off by a hush from her supposed mother.

“I see them, girl. Mmm. Much as I expected,” the woman predicted, a wrinkled smile changing her entire mood. Morrigan left our group and went onto her mother’s side, standing behind her like clockwork.

Alistair snorted. “Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?”

Morrigan’s mother took a sideway squint at him. “You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one’s eyes tight of open one’s arms wide… either way, one’s a fool!” 

“They’re both witches, I tell you! We shouldn’t be talking to either of them!” Daveth whispered, still on his bout of mythical paranoia. Was he not aware he was travelling with a mage?

“Quiet, Daveth. We’ve been fighting with a mage this whole time. Besides, do you want to make her mad?” Jory warned him.

“There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will.” The old woman approached me directly. “And what of you? Does your elven, mystic mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as they do?

“I’m not sure what to believe at this point,” I answered. All I knew is that I wanted to get this Joining over with and do whatever else I needed to do. 

“A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware… or is it oblivious? I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain… and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!” I honestly didn’t know how to respond to her statement. How could you respond when someone was purposely speaking in riddles and ambiguity? Maybe I just needed to read between the lines of whatever she was saying. 

“So… this is the dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair spoke after a brief pause in the conversation, obviously as confused as I was. 

“Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!” She laughed towards the sky. I could hear Morrigan audibly sigh as if she’d endured the same dialogue before.

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother,” Morrigan interrupted, thankfully.

“True, they came for the treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.” Morrigan’s mother lifted signed treaties from her front pocket, wagging them in front of our faces.

“You… oh. You protected them?” Alistair came closer to her, preparing to take them. 

“And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than you realize!” She handed him the treaties, pulling away after Alistair retrieved them from her grip. The woman was cursed with omens that I couldn’t predict. 

“What do you mean?” My body was worn out and ready to rest, but I couldn’t ignore her warning. I leaned against my staff, a stifled grunt passing through my mouth as I tried to shift my weight. 

“Either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps the realize nothing!” She howled once more, almost sending me through my breaking point. I guess I forgot who I was talking to. “Oh, but do not mind me. You have what you came for!”

“Time for you to go, then,” Morrigan spoke, as eager to end the conversation as I was. 

“Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests.” It didn’t take long for Morrigan’s entire expression changed from irritation to numb compliance.

“Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me, if I must insist.” She walked ahead of us, not uttering another word as she expected us to follow. 

Morrigan lead us through a shortcut near her mother’s hut, but there was still a long stretch of the Wilds on the way to Ostagar’s ruins. By the time we returned to the wooden gates barring the main camp, the day already passed noon and was transforming into the night. I tried to give Morrigan my thanks on her behalf of escorting us back, but she disappeared into the shadowy wilderness before I could get the chance to speak to her. Alistair announced our arrival to the gatekeeper, in which the gates were quickly unbarred in the way of our entrance. Campfires and torches dotted the area, Duncan waiting near the large bonfire where we were primed on our task. His back was turned to us, the burning light of the bonfire shadowing his body. We stood before him, waiting for his acknowledgment. 

“So you returns from the Wilds. Have you been successful?” Duncan acknowledged, turning to us.

“We hit a few speed bumps along the way, but yes, we’re back.” Alistair carried the treaties and small vials of darkspawn blood in each of his hands.

“Good, that is all that matters. I’ve had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you’ve retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.” I remembered the warning of Morrigan’s eccentric mother.

“Wait, Duncan, maybe we should tell you about the apostates we found in the Wilds. They said that the battle was greater than we realized, but I’m not sure what that means.” The word apostate sounded strange on my tongue. It wasn’t totally appropriate to call them such, but it was the only word I could find that matched the circumstance.

“There was a woman at the lost archives and her mother had the scrolls. They were both very… odd,” Alistair explained further. 

“Were they wilder folk?” Duncan asked back.

“I don’t think so,” Alistair replied for both of us.

“I know you were once a templar, Alistair, and you a Circle mage, Samile, but Chantry business is not ours. We have the scrolls as well as the vials, let us focus on the Joining.” I watched Duncan take the treaty and vials from Alistair’s hands, turning away from him in the direction our recruit trio. “I will not lie, we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

This was my second Harrowing. Now I just had no idea where it would take me. All the secrecy, the keeping in the dark… I thought I could get away from it all. I should’ve known. I took a moment to glance at Daveth and Jory, who stared back at me in knowing silence. It was comforting to know I wouldn’t go through it on my own-- something I never imagined myself thinking. I was so used to going through ordeals by my lonesome, and now people were actively involved in them alongside me. Was the detachment I had towards my peers a defense? Was I guarded because I didn’t want to be vulnerable? Did the isolation of that blasted Circle Tower push me even deeper down the path to solitude? I sighed out loud, mentally swatting away the intrusive thoughts, “So… there’s a chance this could be fatal? Or at the very least harmful?”

“As could be any darkspawn you face in battle. You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had the chance to survive.”

“Let’s go, then. I’m anxious to see this Joining now,” Daveth spoke up. 

“I agree, let’s have it done,” Jory concurred.

“Then let us begin. Alistair, take them to the old temple.” Duncan departed somewhere else, Alistair leading us to the ruins where I first met him. I lingered behind them, something pestering and biting my mind. I shuffled around in my pockets, feeling the now cold petals of Andraste’s Grace. The mabari hound! I waited for a safe enough distance between me and the three men before I snuck back to the kennel.

As I arrived at the kennel’s wooden gates, the trainer smiled at me. “She’s stable for now, but she still has yet to improve. Do you have the herb?” 

“Yes! Here,” I gasped, handing him the flower I already had in my right hand. 

“Alright, let me see…” He inspected the inner parts of it. “All white… blood-red center… yes, that’s exactly it, wonderful. Give me a moment to make the ointment, please.” 

“Sure.”

I watched him disappear into a nearby tent placed on the right side of the kennel. In the meanwhile, I observed the condition of the sickly hound. She was in a deep slumber, her chest rising and descending in the rhythm of her breathing. Every once a while her body convulsed, making her readjust herself into the soft forage beneath her. I prayed she wouldn’t have to suffer any longer. The trainer came back after perhaps ten minutes, carrying a mortar full of ointment. He opened the gate before dipping two fingers into the mortar, scooping out pinkish goo. Crouching towards the hound, the trainer awoke her, indicated by her subtle lift of the head and quiet panting. 

“Here girl…” He let her sniff the ointment on his fingers before letting her lick them, waiting for her reaction. She was enjoying the taste, actively sitting up to delight herself in it. He eased the mortar up to her mouth, letting her consume the whole bowl. I grinned, laying my right arm on the kennel borders and cradling my chin in my hand. Once she was finished, she tongued the roof of her mouth trying to catch the excess ointment. Taking the mortar away, the trainer easily stepped out and closed the gate behind him. “She looks better already. I’m sure she’d thank you herself, if she could.” 

“I’m just glad I could help her. How long do you think until she’s cleared everything out of her system?” I crossed my hands together, bringing them to my chest. 

“Why not come back after the battle? Perhaps we can see about her imprinting on you. She’ll still need a master after all of this is said and done.”

“I was unsure the first time, but...” 

“She likely understands you’re responsible for her curing. Mabaris are at least as smart as your average tax collector. Come back after the battle and just… take another look, will you?” 

Having my own mabari by my side, a companion… once I actually thought about it, I started to like the idea. “I guess I’ll take the chance, later. I-I have to get back to what I was doing before, though, sorry.” 

“Oh no, of course, thank you for all your help.” The trainer gave me the same firm handshake as when we first met, sending me off with a warrior’s salute: a singular pound on his heart. I bowed back, retreating to the old temple. 

The junior Warden and the other two recruits were waiting ahead in the eastern part of the old temple or regal ruins I mistook it for earlier in the day, Alistair leaning against a wall with his shoulder, Jory pacing back and forth with balled-up fists, and Daveth tinkering with his bowstring while sitting upon a breach in the wall opposite of Alistair. Alistair noticed me first, leaning off of the wall and standing near the staircase I had finished ascending, “Fulfilling duties, are we?” 

“Uh, yes, sorry for the wait,” I apologized, slightly wincing from the pain in my hip that wouldn’t let up. It was small, though-- nothing to waste my mana on. 

Jory puffed, staring at me and Alistair. “You know, the more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it.” 

Daveth stopped fiddling with his bowstring, grimacing at the older knight. “Are you blubbering again?”

“Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?” Jory raised his voice.

“Maybe it’s tradition. Maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.” Daveth stood, shrugging and pushing his lips forward.

“I would agree you, Ser Jory, but you heard Duncan himself. He said there would be a price to pay for all of this, whether we liked it or not. There’s nothing we can do but take the dive,” I tried to encourage them. Jory reflected for a moment, momentarily stopping his puffing. Soon, he was back to his old state.

“I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me, I… it just doesn’t seem fair.” Jory dipped his head. 

“Would you have come if they’d warned you? Maybe that’s why they don’t. The Wardens do what they must, right?” Daveth said, supporting my statement. 

“Including sacrificing us?” 

“I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.” Daveth spoke with the utmost honesty in his voice. The superstitious character that I’d met earlier was gone, and now something more willing took its’ place. Jory glanced at me for a second opinion, me only responding by nodding my head in agreement. “You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn’t you die to protect your pretty wife from them?” 

“I…”

“Maybe you’ll be die. Maybe we’ll all die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we’ll die for sure.” Daveth’s concluding statement shook me to my core. He was perfectly right. This fight was bigger than each three of us and the concerns we had combined-- it was the fifth Blight of all things. There was no room for details, only the bigger picture, which is what the order of Grey Wardens focused on: stopping the Blight before it could rip Ferelden apart, and possibly all of Thedas. 

“I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade.” Jory relaxed, starting to ease himself into the unknowingness. 

“At last we come to the Joining,” Duncan announced behind us, stepping over to a compact stone table beside us and placing a white footed chalice on top of it. From what I could see, a reddish liquid swirled inside of it. Was that the darkspawn blood he asked us for? “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood... and mastered their taint…” I wasn’t glad to hear Duncan confirm my suspicions. 

“We’re… going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?” I could see Jory’s hands starting to shake, no matter how much he balled his fists.

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory.” I looked to Alistair behind me, who only glanced at me once before avoiding my gaze. 

“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon. That’s also why those wolves back in the Wilds were so repulsed. The taint can corrupt anything it touches.”

“How much of a chance do we have to survive this?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it still cracked. I implored that whatever didn’t kill me in the Korcari Wilds made me strong enough to face this.

“I’ll be blunt-- there is no way of knowing. Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay. We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?” 

We all formed into a circle, Alistair slightly bending his head to the floor and closing his eyes. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn,” I could see Jory glancing towards the chalice out of my peripheral vision. “And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.”

“Daveth, step forward.” Duncan waited near the stone table, chalice in hand. 

Daveth did as he said, taking the chalice and bringing it up to his lips. He paused before swallowing the fear and sipping a portion of the blood, Duncan taking it out of his grip. Before we could all react, Daveth staggered, screaming out in pain I could only imagine. He momentarily shut his eyes, opening them to reveal a pure whiteness. He fell to the floor on his knees and elbows, his screaming turning into groans as he clutched his throat. 

“I am sorry, Daveth…” Duncan said, Daveth finally succumbing to his death after pained wheezing. My vision started to detach as I watched Daveth’s body lie on the floor, my breathing even more unsteady. “Step forward, Jory.”

Jory brandished his sword, pointing it towards Duncan while he backed himself into a corner. “But… I have a wife. A child! Had I have known--”

“There is no turning back.” Once Duncan saw how reluctant he was, he set the chalice on the table, wielding a curved short sword. Alistair pulled me back by my shoulder, into the line of safety.

“No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!” Jory swung at Duncan with a horizontal swipe, Duncan effortlessly countering it with his blade and impaling him in his gut. A low groan escaped Jory’s mouth as he was stabbed.

Duncan kept him there for a moment. “I am sorry,” he apologized, releasing his shortsword and letting Jory’s body fall to the floor. A pool of blood started to form under his body, bringing me back to that moment at the Circle Tower. I was frozen, flashbacks of Jowan’s blood and the unconscious templars and Irving haunting me. “But the Joining is not yet complete,” Duncan’s words snapped me back to reality before I was too far gone. “You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.”

He brought me the chalice, me cupping both of my hands around it. I stared into the liquid before swallowing the rest of it, letting the cup fall of out of my hands and into Duncan’s. He and Alistair gave me space. “From this moment, you are a Grey Warden.” The effects didn’t immediately kick in, which gave me a faltering hope. After a few seconds, a sharp pain coursed through my brain with a company of unintelligible whispering coming at me from every direction. Before I knew it, a whiteness replaced my vision, then vanishing to an image of a black, tainted dragon. The whispers began to get more louder and less audible as I closed in on the dragon’s eye from an overhead view, it only blinking once before I woke up, staring up at Duncan and Alistair’s faces.


	13. Reality and Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finished with your Joining, the junior Warden Alistair comforts you in spite of the death of your fellow recruits. Duncan asks you to join a conference with the king, to your surprise. At the end of the conference, you feel that you have more questions than answers.

“It is finished. Welcome,” Duncan said. I sat up, my hip aching even more than when I was awake-- I’m not even sure if it that was a true sleep. I saw my staff sitting on the ground beside me, grabbing it and using it as weight to stand on my feet.

“Two more deaths. In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible. I’m glad at least one of you made it through,” Alistair said, sounding equally relieved and upset.

“How do you feel?” Duncan asked. Despite understanding what he had to do to Jory, I couldn’t look at him the same. His voice rang in my mind, _This is the price we must pay._

The memories of Jory and Daveth’s deaths still fresh in my mind, I hid my face from them, letting my hair hang over my face as I cried. “Nothing you said could’ve prepared me for whatever that was… it was more painful than my Harrowing.”

“Such is what it takes to be a Grey Warden.” The deadness of his reply didn’t surprise me. Duncan had probably seen it plenty times before, being a senior of the order. He probably had his own tears to shed, too. I finally looked up at them, sniffling and wiping my tears away with my unclothed wrist. Alistair uncomfortably stood, staring elsewhere to avoid looking at me in the eyes.

“Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining.” Alistair spoke to me, taking his view to the sky above him. I could’ve read his behavior as being cold, but it didn’t seem that way.

“Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That and many other things can be explained in the months to come.”

“Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining,” Alistair dangled a necklace from his fingers, a small vessel of blood attached to it, “We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us… of those who didn’t make it this far.” He walked over to me, opening my palm and placing the necklace in it.

“And now that you are a part of our ranks, you receive an outfit to represent the new order you belong to,” Alistair stood out of the way of Duncan, the latter giving me a lightweight Grey Warden outfit with no extra armor, fit to the capabilities of a mage. I ran my fingers over the velveteen texture of the outfit, sensing the protections woven into it.

“Thank you,” I lowly spoke.

“Take some time to prepare yourself. When you are ready, I’d like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king.”

I raised my eyebrows to Duncan and dipped my chin, tears still stinging in my eyes. “...Me?”

“Yes… the king is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle. I am not sure why he has requested your presence. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs. Please attend as soon as you are able.” Duncan marched down the stairs to leave me and Alistair standing alone.

I snuffled, feeling the puffiness of my eyes with pressing fingers. I looked to Alistair, still standing with me, “Aren’t you going to follow him? I’ll be fine, I just… need to get my bearings--”

“I’m sorry… for everything. I know how much it hurts to not even be able to talk about it,” Alistair admitted. He sniffed away his own teariness, rubbing his eyes with the side of a thumb. “Just know that I’m here, for anything and everything. You don’t have to suffer any of this alone, no matter how much this oath requires secrecy.” I think I was waiting to hear those words my entire life. It made me want to cry more, but there was already too much tears between the both of us.

“Thank you, Alistair. Really. You don’t know how much that means to me,” I confessed. I wanted to hug him. Get closer to him in any way I could. We were pouring out all of our collective inner grief and sorrow that were deadlocked from our responsibilities that only required reason to complete them-- no sentiment. In spite of all of it, it felt… right. To just sit in our feelings and acknowledge their existence.

“Oh, trust me, I know. Becoming a Grey Warden is a lifetime commitment to not having much time for yourself. It’s a little unhealthy for people our age. Well, more than a little, as you can see.” His familiar, beaming grin appeared, almost tricking me into the illusion that he wasn’t weepy a few moments ago. I smiled back, cradling my new gear close to my chest. “Now that the tender moment is over, do you need to use my tent to change? I don’t mind.”

“Please. Thank you again.”

“No problem.” I think I was starting to… no. He was only being comforting. He just knew what I going through. No need to delude myself. I followed Alistair back to his tent placed near the front of the bridge, where Duncan said he’d be when he scolded me. He royally gestured to the tent as he walked me to it, “Welcome to my incredibly humble abode. Mind your step and the obscenities inside.”

“Obscenities? Is it too late to change my mind?” We stopped, me watching the dull lighting inside of the tent illuminate Alistair’s face.

“Whoa! I didn’t think you had the nerve to refuse. Would you rather get dressed in Duncan’s?” He bent his neck sideways, tilting his head.

“No…” I said, sounding defeated. “Do you think he’s stressed after… what happened?”

Alistair instantly changed his expression, directing his eyes to the tent and biting his bottom lip. “As anyone would be, I think. It isn’t everyday that we get recruits, especially given the heavy burden and the stressing of the best recruits possible. You wouldn’t think it, but he talks to me about it sometimes, when it gets too hard. I can tell he’s depending on the both of us.” He looked back at me with graveness.

“Hmm.” I looked down. “He’s a victim of it all, isn’t he? The obliged reservedness and stoicism. It’s all weighing on his shoulders.”

“Oh yeah, big time. He told me he was inducted when he was our age, or slightly above. He’s been sitting with it for years. But don’t let this get in the way of anything, you have a conference to get ready for, come on.”

“Right, right.” I moved quickly, pushing the flap of the tent to the side and letting it fall behind me as I stepped in. The flooring of the tent was lined with fur, sizeable covers and pillows of various size among it. The source of the lighting from inside was a small lantern, placed upon a bench lined with carved statuettes and runestones. All of it was endearing before I saw the huge wheel of cheese leaning on the leg of the bench. I completely stopped, wondering why he had it. “...Alistair?”

“Yes?” His yell was muffled.

“Why is there a wheel of cheese in your tent?”

I could hear him audibly groan. “I said mind the obscenities, Samile!” I tried to hide a suppressed laugh, covering my mouth with my hand that still had the necklace in it. “Heard that.”

“Sorry!”

“Whatever!”

Grinning to myself, I placed my equipment aside, beginning to unfix my belt and unravel the lace that kept my robe together. I easily pushed the sleeves of the robe down my arms, letting the rest fall down to my legs. All that was left were my underclothes, which were a shear, red cotton sweater and thin, brown trousers that rose just above my ankles, tucked into leather boots of the same color. Regretting not taking them off first, I untied my boots’ strings, pulling them off one foot at a time while they were still under my fallen robe. I stepped out of the way of them, taking a second to monitor my body. I tugged my sweater up to my chest, revealing a reddish-purple bruise on my left hip. I hissed at the sight, carefully pressing a finger against it. The pain was mostly gone now, ignoring the fact that I could heal it and be done with it forever. I did so, willing a blue, restorative light to my right index finger and massaging the bruise with it. The color of the bruise faded into my skin, replaced with a relief of the minor aching.

“You okay in there?” Alistair called out to me. I could see the figure of his head turn my way from outside.

“Just fine, thanks.”

I rolled my hips from side to side, trying to sense if there was any pain left. Nope. Just a little lightheadedness from the spell. I continued, taking the necklace and clipping it around my neck. I lifted the vial up to my eye, watching the blood thinly coat the glass container as it sank to the bottom. A reminder of those didn’t pass the Joining. Clutching the necklace to my chest, I took a moment to remember Daveth and Ser Jory. We didn’t get off to a wonderful start, but I’m glad they could prepare for the Joining with me, at least. Rest in peace, friends. I’ll make sure to remind myself of your sacrifice when the battle is won.

Taking a deep breath, I dropped the necklace out of my hands and let it dangle against my chest. I reached down to grab my outfit, which was a pair of brown gloves, brigandine and tabard of the Grey Wardens’ iconic blue and silver colors, as well as a brown belt. I quickly got dressed into them, trying to lessen my tardiness for the conference. I popped the long collars of the brigandine before putting on my boots and tying them up once more. Retrieving my old mage robes, I jerked my trusty staff out of the belt behind it, fixing into my new leather belt after. Carrying my old robes, I stepped out of the tent.

“Look at that, a real Grey Warden. I’m honored to be in your presence,” Alistair complimented me. Making matters worse, he bent over and bowed. I felt the same flush in my cheeks as when he teased me in our first meeting.

“Oh, stop it! People are sleeping,” I whispered, trying to hide my fluster.

“I’ll bet everyone will rise out of their sleep to see you now, ser.”

I rolled my eyes, walking past him but still smiling. “Just take me to this blighted conference.”

“As you request.”

As we walked back to the old temple, I placed my old robes on a stump near the tents occupying the Circle Mages, and Wynne. They’d know what to do with it, I hoped. I clearly didn’t need it anymore, but it felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind. I was growing from an Apprentice, to a Mage, and now a Grey Warden. It was all happening so fast that I couldn’t properly reflect, at least not in the way I wanted to. Alistair bid me farewell, waving to me as I walked to the western ruins, where Duncan said the strategy meeting would be. I was met with the king and teyrn face to face in front of the wooden dinner table I saw earlier, being cleaned by the elves. A mage and priestess stood beside them on their left, Duncan behind the dinner table looking over a wide map placed upon it.

“Loghain, my decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault,” the king stated firmly.

“You risk too much, Cailain! The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines,” the teyrn warned him. I snuck behind them, placing myself beside Duncan. He looked up from the map to acknowledge me, only moving his eyes.

“If that’s the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all.”

“I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!” The teyrn took a step away from the king, leaving him to stand on his own.

“It’s not a _fool’s notion._ Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past… and you will remember who is king.” I nervously tugged at my sweater underneath the brigandine. It was true, Orlesians and Fereldans have been at each other’s throats for years. The Fereldan Rebellion against Orlais only happened 58 years ago, so I could understand the teyrn’s reluctance. The wounds were still too fresh to allow any sort of catharsis between the nations. 

“How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!” I was indecisive. Keeping the bigger picture of everything in mind, more forces would aid us against the Blight, but I was having trouble imagining that both nations could put everything behind them and ride off to fight against the archdemon.

“Then our current forces will have to suffice, won’t they? Duncan, are your men ready for battle?” Both the king and the teyrn turned to our direction.

Duncan stood at attention. “They are, your Majesty.”

“And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order.” The king smiled at me. He and Alistair could’ve been brothers and I would be none the wiser.

“Thank you, your Majesty. There were many sacrifices I was willing to take to get here,” I said.

“As usual. Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks.” In truth, I still felt out of place, even though the Joining was already finished. Maybe I just needed to relax into the role. The teyrn took a sideways glare to the king.

“Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality,” the teyrn complained.

“Fine. Speak your strategy. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?” They both placed their hands on the table, overviewing the map that seemed to represent Ostagar’s ruins.

“You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signalling my men to charge from cover--”

“To flank the darkspawn, I remember. This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?” He pointed to top of a tower that was drawn on the right side of Ostagar’s bridge.

“I have a few men stationed there. It’s not a dangerous task, but it is vital.”

“Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and Samile to make sure it’s done.” I raised my eyebrows at the praise. I thought I was still proving myself to everyone here, but I guess that’s no longer the case. Or the king placed too much faith in me.

“You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?” The teyrn eyed me from his position, making me withdraw.

“Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they’re from.”

“Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing,” Duncan spoke.

“There have been no signs of dragons in the Wilds,” the teyrn reported.

“Isn’t that what your men are here for, Duncan?”

“I… yes, your Majesty.” I could see the distress on Duncan’s face, making me considerably worried as well. How could they both be so careless? Couldn’t they see whole picture? If an archdemon appeared, that would signal the confirmation of a true Blight and an ushering of a new piece of Ferelden’s already grim history. I recalled Morrigan’s mother’s warning, _the threat of the Blight is greater than they’ve realized._ My gut told me this would all end terribly. 

The mage standing nearby approached the king, his hands trembling. “Your Majesty, the tower and its’ beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi--”

“We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage! Save them for the darkspawn!” The priestess interrupted. I felt the offense on the behalf of the mage for myself.

“Enough!” The teyrn declared. “This plan will suffice. Grey Wardens will light the beacon.”

“Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!” The king preached.

The teyrn already started to leave, turning his back to us and then stopping. “Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all.” The teyrn’s voice sounded… inappropriately relaxed. He was planning something.

 


	14. Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the conference, Duncan pairs you with Alistair to make the beacon in the Tower of Ishal is lit. All is well until you reach the peak. You believed that the Blight was already here-- everyone else just had to accept it first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do something different in this chapter since it's basically the start of main complication in the entire story, and pretty much an "end of Disc 1", so I added some more viewpoints of characters besides Samile. Based on how this went, I'm interested in adding more P.O.V's as the story goes on-- I'll see how it goes.   
> Trigger Warning: Blood, Violence

**Samile**

“You heard the plan. You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit,” Duncan repeated. After the conference ended, he dragged me and Alistair back to our meeting place, in front of the large bonfire where he briefed our Joining. I wanted to say my complaints about the entire plan, but I knew everything was already set in stone. 

Alistair looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What? I won’t be in the battle?” 

“This is by the king’s personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.” Duncan didn’t believe in any of this and I could see right through his  act. From the moment we first met the king, he was wary of the execution of battle. Why was he backing down now? Probably because of the same reasoning I had. There was nothing he could do but execute the faulty plan, because there was no other plan left. 

“So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?” Alistair and I were at least on the same page.

“I agree with Alistair. We shouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines,” I supported him.

“That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will _be_ there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn… exciting or no,” Duncan reprimanded us. I sighed, staring into the ground. I imagined the First Enchanter teasing me, “the impetuousness of youth never ceases to end.” 

“We get, we get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no,” Alistair jested.

I chuckled at his comment, shoving my head to my right side so Duncan couldn’t see me laughing. “That would keep their defenses down for sure. Otherwise, I think I’d like to see that.”

“For you, maybe I will. But it has to be a pretty dress.” Alistair tried to pull pouts through his grinning.

Duncan groaned at our foolishness. “The battle is about to begin. Once I leave, move quickly. You’ll have less than an hour. Cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you’ll find the beacon, overlooking the entire valley.”

“And how do we know when the time is right to launch the signal?” I asked. 

“Alistair will know what do from there. Follow his lead.” Before either of us could ask him about joining the battle afterwards, Duncan cut us off, predicting what we’d say. “Stay with the teyrn’s men and guard the tower. Should the archdemon appear… leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you.” 

“We know what we have to do,” Alistair affirmed bitterly. 

“Then I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title.” My heart sunk. I felt like he was saying his goodbyes to us, as if he were expecting to finally meet his fate. All we could do was hope and pray that Teyrn Loghain’s men would rush in to save the day, but the conclusion of the strategy meeting and his ending comments... I wanted to remain uncertain of it all, but I could feel what was coming. The arrival of the Fifth Blight and the ceasing of a regular life as we all knew it. 

“Duncan… may the Maker watch over you.” The bitterness in Alistair’s voice was gone, instead infused with a prayer for Duncan’s life. 

“May the Maker watch over us all,” Duncan ended. He took a moment to glance at both of us, then walked off to join the king’s army. Watching him walk away was like watching someone’s spirit ascend to the Fade, or wherever the Maker was. We’ll make you proud, Duncan. You’ll survive this. We all will.

* * *

**Duncan**

I waited with the king’s army in the gorge, just below the bridge leading to the Tower of Ishal on its’ right. A storm disturbed the skies after I left Alistair and Samile, creating fierce winds that clouded my vision and pouring rain that muddied the ground under my feet. I stared into the army’s soldiers, noticing their unease and rising tension. Mabari hounds barked at the front lines, already sensing the darkspawn horde. Priestesses’ strolled down the aisles of the soldiers, incanting prayers in faith of winning the coming battle and carrying incensed lanterns. 

“The plan will work, your Majesty,” I said to Cailan, standing by his side. 

“Of course it will. The Blight ends here,” Cailain responded, an expression of credence on his face as he stared into the aisles of soldiers with me. 

Beyond the Wilds to our front, an orange light lit up behind the trees, marking the arrival of the horde. Abstract whispers flooded my ears as the opposing army showed themselves, a darkspawn trait that I was all too familiar with. Hurlocks and genlocks of all ranks and classes, ogres of armor and alpha-- everything except the archdemon loomed, waiting for the first shedding of blood. Growls started to sound from their front lines as the hurlocks built up their festering rage. I watched one of our own soldiers in the front lines hesitate back, only to be met with another pressuring soldier to sway him back into his position. I looked to Cailan, his expression now consumed with irritance. An emissary released the horde with a forward swing of his blade, dispatching the horde to finally strike. Now, it was time to execute our attack. 

“Archers!” The archers arched their bows to the horde, waiting for a signal to launch. With a forward wave of a commander’s hand, they released before the horde got too close. Ignited arrows pierced the first wave of them-- a promising start. “Hounds!” As expected, the mabari hounds raced to the horde, biting and mauling with all their bestial power. “For Ferelden!” The king raised his blade, turning to his army and sending it off. Incendiary projectiles from behind the horde showered Ostagar’s ruins, thankfully not destroying the bridge. Alistair… Samile… may the Maker watch over you both.

* * *

**Alistair**

Me and Samile watched balls of fire ascend from the bulk of horde and crash down upon Ostagar’s ruins. Luckily for us, the Tower of Ishal was left standing, as well as the bridge crossing the gorge. I looked to Samile, with his prolonged ears poking out between his wet hair and his armor utterly soaked. He looked back at me with an expression that said “what now?” I cleared my throat, preparing to shout over the warfare beneath us. Duncan… please be fine. 

“Let’s try to cross the bridge!” I shouted, starting to dash along it while Samile followed behind me. 

“Watch your step! The projectiles made craters in the bridge!” Samile cautioned. We witnessed statues crumble before our eyes as the projectiles tore them down, and archers crying out in pain as they were left to suffer their deaths. It stung me to know there was nothing we could do about them, but I had to keep my mind focused on just reaching that beacon. We managed to cross the bridge by the skin of our teeth, coming upon the stairs leading to the tower’s thoroughfare. Two of the teyrn’s men stopped us before we could enter. 

“You… you’re Grey Wardens, aren’t you?! The tower… it’s been taken!” One of them said. I could already tell this tiny, but apparently vital task was going to be harder than it needed to be. 

“What are you talking about, man? Taken how?” I urged him. 

“The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers! They’re everywhere! Most of our men are dead!”

I huffed, pardoning the fallen men. I had no way of knowing darkspawn were here already; my taint could sense them in every direction since the horde arrived. Time to take things into our own hands then! “Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!

I pushed my way through both of the men. Knowing that the darkspawn were probably waiting for us to appear, I armed myself with my sword and shield. Samile punctually armed himself with his staff, maybe having the same idea. I was worried about his safety. I wanted to make sure to avoid what happened in the Wilds forever. Just remembering how he and Daveth cried out in pain made me shudder. Entering the thoroughfare to the tower, we saw groups of guards struggling against minor hurlocks and genlocks. An emissary or an alpha would definitely be nearby…

I pierced the back of a hurlock ready to strike a killing blow to a nearby soldier, making it drop its’ bloodied sword and slowly perish on my blade. I forcefully kicked it’s hind with my heel, a blood spurt painting my cheek as it detached itself and squirmed on the dirt floor. I couldn’t be more glad that the Grey Wardens were immune to the taint. Then, Samile stood in front of me, shielding me with his body and erecting a magical barrier before a few genlocks’ arrows could pierce me. He waited for them to impact before deconstructing the barrier and redirecting its’ energy towards them, forming into a shockwave that hurled their now lifeless bodies across the thoroughfare. So much raw power. Anticipating his stumble, I braced him with my shoulder. I guess I didn’t need to defend him that much after all-- he was looking out for me too.

“I appreciate the look out. Just remember we can’t slaughter all of them, no matter how much we’d like to. We still have less than an hour to reach the beacon!” I remarked. 

“I know!” Slicking his hair back out of his face, he reformed himself into a mage’s defensive stance. Every moment he made was so… fluid. Beautiful, even. This wasn’t the time for an admiring stupor, though. 

Dodging through skirmishes and the occasional misfired arrow, Samile and I reached to the peak of the thoroughfare, an alpha standing by the tower’s door. I hated being right. It bellowed into the storm, almost sounding like a thunderclap as it swaggered over to us. With a downward swing, me and Samile were separated by its’ great sword coming in between us. Samile snuck back, giving me a look that stressed me to keep it busy. I immediately sliced its’ shoulder to get its’ attention and braced myself for its’ retaliation. It snapped, coming at me with an upward swing. I blocked the swing with my shield, it making me totter back from the blunt impact. Damn! I kept my distance, passively coercing it to keep it focused on me. The alpha marched towards me before it lost its’ momentum, dramatically slowing down and starting to stagger. 

“I disoriented it! Try to make it lose its’ balance someway!” Samile yelled at me between fixing another spell.

“Okay, but it might be risky!” I charged at the creature with my full strength, attempting to knock it off its’ feet with the collision of my shield. I was just about to collide with it before it met my shield with its’ arm, still lucid enough to defend itself. I gasped as it knocked me off my own feet with a deflecting push.

I landed with my back to the floor, instinctively blocking my face with my shield in preparation for its’ next attack. I hoped it wouldn’t be my own killing blow. The emissary rose up its’ great sword behind its’ back, preparing another downward swing. Before I could shut my eyes, Samile launched a lightning bolt from his staff. The concentrated electrical discharge and the wet armor of the alpha combined to deep fry it, making it jolt and violently convulse. I stood up and dodged its’ body before it could fall on top of me and transfer the lethal shock. Blocking my nose, I tried to avoid breathing in the charred remains. 

“I’m sorry, that was a terrible plan! I didn’t think it would resist the spell so strongly,” Samile said frantically, rushing over to my side. He was just made a Warden and now he felt compelled to rise to the accomplishments and complex strategies of seniors like Duncan. I only knew how he felt because I went through the same thing. 

I grasped his shoulder. “Forget all that-- the worst thing you can do now is doubt yourself when we have a mission to complete and a Blight to prevent.”

Samile didn’t take long to contemplate my message. “...You’re right. Bigger picture.” 

“Exactly. Let’s go.” 

Rushing into the Tower of Ishal’s first floor, we were met with a lot of fire and even more bloodshed than outside. Artificial, disarranged blockades of barrels, tables, and fences were set ablaze while the teyrn’s men brawled darkspawn among them. I couldn’t determine whether there was a winning side or a stalemate because of the absolute havoc and chaos.

“Make a path for the Grey Wardens! The beacon must be lit!” A man exclaimed. The men rallied themselves to either push back against the opposing crowds or take the fight somewhere else on the floor. A twisted path of blockades revealed itself after their dispersion, guiding to a hall that must’ve went to the second floor, I dreamed. 

“There’s a path to a hall right there, let’s follow it!” I directed to Samile. He studied the brawling, then looked back at me with sad eyes. That look hit a weak spot in me. 

I caved in, exhaling and lowering my stance. “I know. Believe me, I hate sitting here and playing the errand boy too. We can aid them after lighting the beacon.”

“...I can take that.” Samile hurriedly proceeded onto the twisted path without me. This is why I never wanted to play the role of a leader. All of the moral decisions and hurt feelings. It was just too testing to choose the right decisions and all the potential sacrifices that came with them, as well as the fact that practicality never suited me. I followed the mage, covering our tracks for any stray creatures that decided to tag along to our departure to the next floor. “I found the stairs!” He called out to me, beyond the corridor the barricades lead to and a room on the right. I sped up, following the sound of his voice. 

I entered a room with a large crater in its’ center, with an ajar door on its’ right wall. Maker, so much destruction… I continued, running into the room with the ajar door and shutting it behind me. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any door key on my person to lock it. This horde would probably bash it down anyways. Samile looked at me, already advancing up the staircase. “How many floors are there?” 

I caught up to him, stepping up the staircase and taking the lead again. “Two more besides this one. Let’s make this quick.” I opened the metal door to the second floor, which was remarkably empty. Waiting for Samile to enter after me, I shut the metal door behind us. Coming into its’ circular chamber, I could feel my temper rising as my mind finally caught up to the situation we were dealing with. “Maker’s breath, what are the darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde?! There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!” 

“The archdemon is here, that’s why. I can’t sense its’ taint or anything, but...” Samile took a moment to stand, placing his staff upright on the floor. He shook his head after finishing his unsettling statement. “I wish you could’ve been there at that meeting. The way the king and the teyrn brushed aside the mere mention of the archdemon… that’s what Morrigan’s mother meant. When she said the threat of the Blight was greater than we realized.” 

“Don’t say that. There’s nothing to confirm it yet. Me or Duncan would’ve sensed it by now.” I tried to cling to the notion that I wasn’t in denial, but he was too right. It all made too much sense. 

He didn’t look at me, but his expression sunk into some grim realization. “Do you remember when you told me you had dreams after your Joining? I--”

Cutting off our analytical discussion, the door of the first floor slammed open behind us, a small band of hurlocks rushing in. “Run!” I shouted to him. We sprinted through the second floor, exiting the circular hall to our right and dodging the heavy artillery strewn across it. Coming into a room also placed on its’ right, another staircase lead to the third floor. We ran up it, me quickly opening the metal door and letting Samile run in first. The sound of barking mabari hounds emerged alongside hurlock growls, as they were locked in cages on the other side of the chamber facing towards us.

“I think I see the mechanisms that unlock the cages… I’m letting them loose!” Samile exclaimed, running over to the cages and pulling the levers that locked them in. Their collective barks turned into snarls as they raced out of the previously barred cages and charged behind me, facing the band of hurlocks for us. Not taking the opportunity for granted, I slammed the door shut with my shoulder. Pressings my ears against the cold metal, I could hear the sounds of pained, fiendish wailing. Good dogs! 

“Alright, the beacon should be right above us,” I groaned, stepping away from the door. “Good idea setting the hounds free. See? A unplanned course of action that went well. Well, it should be the reverse, but we take what we can get, right?” 

Samile sighed as he leaned on the last lever he pulled. “Right. Remind me to thank you after all of this is over.”

I smirked at him, furrowing my brows. “For what?” 

“Well… you’ve been so kind and supportive of me ever since we met.” He leaned off the lever, now balancing himself with his staff. “I just wanted to give you the appreciation your actions merit. So, thank you. I’m trying to figure out a way I can repay you for all of it.” 

“Heh… you’re the kind one.” Wow. I couldn’t even think of any one-liner or a pun. The butterflies in my stomach and the warmness rising in my cheeks wouldn’t let me. I couldn't play stupid, I knew I liked the feeling of being... needed, I suppose.  “I… just know what you’re going through. It’s, uh, hard… I thought it’d be nice to not make you to feel not so out of place among all these long-time veterans and grizzled warriors and… let me stop before I start babbling. Uh… you’re welcome. And thank you. For the appreciation.” Am I sweating? Was my face red? I don’t know. I hope not.

Samile tinkered with his pendant, nodding and smiling. “Of course. Thank you for not making me feel all alone in this." 

I started to rub the back of neck once the heat occupying my cheeks ran further. “Yeah, yeah… you’re welcome. Let’s, uh, go light that beacon and save everyone’s lives. The hour still hasn’t run out.” 

“Right, sorry for taking up time. I’ll follow.” 

I dared not to say another word of out my big mouth, taking the lead and pacing to the peak of the tower. A corridor and a room later, we rose up to the final floor. The beacon was waiting to be lit on the left side of the room as old dust covered its’ hearth from decades of neglect. Where’s a spare torch when you needed one? Oh, of course, there was a mage right next to me. “Will you do the honors?”

“Sure.” Samile caressed his staff along its’ tip, pointing it towards the hearth and lighting it ablaze with a small cone-shaped stream of fire. I found myself mesmerized by the way the warm light reflected off of his coppery skin and brown eyes as he stood in front of it. He let out a sigh of relief, turning to me. “Let’s help the teyrn’s men before we--”

The sound of the tower’s peak being breached and a great blast was all I could hear before my vision blackened, and my view of Samile was gone. 

* * *

**Duncan**

The conflict did not seem to be coming to an end any time soon. Cailan and I still fought alongside each other, hacking through boundless waves of darkspawn. I constantly sweeped, slashed, swung, and even guarded. At some point it was just instinct and the absence of thought. After I managed to shove a downed hurlock onto its’ back, I stopped, hearing the rumbling stomps of an ogre. Quickly spinning back, I stared up at the source. Before I could react, I was swept aside by sizeable dark hands. Landing on my stomach, I had no view of the king, aided by my now blurring vision. I shut my eyes for a moment, opening them to the sight of Cailan’s flailing body knocking over two soldiers and landing in front of me. I could only stare at his body, my mind offset by the abruptness of it all. He was in my sights only a moment ago. How could I let this happen? 

The ogre’s blaring roar nearby seemed to only send me into a fury. I stood to my feet, arming myself with the two short swords laid across my back. I ran at it with my full speed, leaping at its’ heart with both of my blades. I viciously impaled it, alternating each blow to its’ heart with an individual blade. It couldn’t even struggle or compete back, falling back onto a few hurlocks and the king's men unfortunately placed beneath it. 

Once I knew the ogre was down for good, I clutched my abdomen. The adrenaline was fading and the torture of my wounds and injuries were taking its’ place. I gazed at Cailan’s body, leaving my blades behind and lurching towards it. I fell in front of him on my knees, then placed my hands on his armored, twisted back when I could not support myself any longer. I looked up to see if the Tower of Ishal was still standing, or if the beacon was lit. The beacon was in fact lit. It was just that the peak of the tower had a huge, burning cavity in it. Any previous optimism I had was gone. Alistair and Samile… they were dead. I originally hoped they would take my place. The numbness finally setting in, I casually watched an emissary and its’ posse advance towards me, as I was resolute to my death.

 


	15. Coming of the Fifth Blight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up in a strange hut in the Wilds belonging to Morrigan's mother, Flemeth. Morrigan tells you of the fate of the king's army, and you are left with Alistair to determine what you're able to do to prevent the Blight from completely overtaking Ferelden.

I awoke in a homely bed, but in an unfamiliar hut. I could remember as clear as day still being in the Tower of Ishal before the explosion occurred. What the hell happened? Where’s Alistair?

I shot up, scanning my surroundings. My body felt surprisingly light, it being that my armor was taken off and nowhere to be seen. I was left in my underclothes, not including my boots. Leaning over to my right side, I saw that my boots were laid upon a bound timber chest.

“Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased,” I unexpectedly heard… Morrigan’s voice? She stood in front of the bed frame, flashing a curt smile.

“Morrigan? But… we were in the Tower… and now I’m here… we should be dead,” I deciphered, trying to retrace my steps from this exact moment from the time we reached the peak.

“That is my name, lest you have forgotten. And we are in the Wilds, from which I brought you back from the brink… you are welcome, by the way. Speaking of, how does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother’s rescue?”

Her mother’s rescue? I shook my head. “No… nothing except being overwhelmed by the explosion. Wait, the beacon! What happened to the king’s army?”

Morrigan paused, making me imagine the worst scenario possible. “...The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those who were abandoned were massacred. And your friend… he is not taking it well.”

I felt sick. I felt like crying. I wanted to sink into Lake Calenhad. It was only moments before I buried my face in my palms, my breathing turning ragged as I didn’t have the strength to keep in my tears. I knew Loghain was planning something, but nothing like this. Did he really distrust the king enough to send us into another Blight? Was it all worth it? I read about all of the aftermaths. It would take more than a few decades to even get back to the way things were before. “How much damage did Ostagar suffer?”

“Are you sure you want me to describe it?”

“Please.”

She cleared her throat. “I had a good view of the battlefield. ‘Tis a grisly scene. There were darkspawn everywhere, and darkspawn swarmed them… feeding, I think. They also looked for survivors and dragged them back down beneath the ground. I cannot say why.”

I regretted asking. The announcement was already hard enough. “That’s good enough. Thank you, Morrigan.” I released my hands from my face, rolling my eyes upward and wiping my tears away. “You said your mother rescued us? Why?”

Once I could see her face again, she looked discomforted. I didn’t blame her. “I wonder at that myself, but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were the only ones she could reach, being at the peak. You may not believe this, but she turned into a giant bird and plucked you two away from the tower’s fiery wreckage, each in one talon. I suggest asking her yourself if you wish to deem my truth credible.”

“That wouldn’t be as much as a miracle as this. I think I’ll go to her now and check on Alistair.” I leaned up towards the side of the bed where the chest was, taking my boots and setting them on my feet.

“I agree. After that, you should be on your way.” Morrigan quickly stepped away to another part of the small hut.

I sniffed to keep snot from running out of my nose, softly groaning at my annoying teariness. Despite my hatred of crying, I was doing more of it than I thought I would have. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much in my entire life since I came here. Standing up from my sitting position on the edge of the bed, I walked to the door outside and pulled its’ handle outward, the too fresh air of the Korcari Wilds filling my nose. Closing the door behind me as I walked out, I saw Alistair standing by long cattails growing near a pool of swamp water. His back was turned to me, but I could tell he was standing with crossed arms. He was in his underclothes, wearing a large, black sweatshirt, trousers of the same color, and the same brown leather boots I had. His hair was untidy, and I could see the material of his sweatshirt curving around and outlining his back muscles as he moved. Morrigan’s mother was standing nearby him, staring at me with Morrigan’s smile, or maybe it was originally her’s.

“See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man,” she said to him.

Alistair turned to me, mouth slightly agape and surprised to see me still alive. He uncrossed his arms. “You… you’re alive. I thought you were dead for sure.”

I weakly smiled. “I thought we both were. But thanks to her,” I gestured to Morrigan’s mother, “we aren’t.”

“This doesn’t seem real. If it wasn’t for her, we’d be dead on top of that tower.”

“Do not talk about me as if I am not present,” Morrigan’s mother snapped.

“Well, we didn’t mean to-- what do we call you? You never told us your name,” Alistair inquired her.

“Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do.” Flemeth? If I didn’t have any certainty that she was a Witch of the Wilds, I had it now. The enchanters in the Circle used to tell apprentices nightmare-fueling stories of her legends to keep us in bed or out of their hair.

“The Flemeth from the legends? Daveth was right-- you’re the Witch of the Wilds, aren’t you?” Alistair said it as if he’d figured out a crime scene.

“And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?”

“I suppose we should thank you, then. Why did you save us?” I asked Flemeth, swinging my arms behind my back and clutching a wrist to connect them.

“We, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

“No, but, how can we do that with only two?”

“We were fighting the darkspawn! The king had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?” Alistair’s veins started to pop in his temples as his temper rose.

“Now that’s a good question. Men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature…” Flemeth looked sorrowful as she said the comment. “Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.”

“The archdemon,” Alistair and I both stated, looking at each other. Was Loghain truly so blinded by his rationalism that he underestimated the _Blight_? 

“What exactly is this archdemon anyway? I’ve only heard of it and… maybe dreamed about it,” I asked.

“Dreamed?” Alistair tilted his head towards me, brows furrowed.

“It is said that long ago, the Maker sent his Old Gods of the Ancient Tevinter Imperium to slumber in prisons deep beneath the surface. An archdemon is an Old God awakened and tainted by darkspawn. Believe that or not, history says it’s a fearsome and immortal thing. And only fools ignore history…” Flemeth starred between us.

“How are we supposed to fight this tainted Old God with just two junior Wardens?” Now I was as furious as Alistair had been. I was mad at our circumstances, mad at the darkspawn, mad at the world’s state. And now we had to clean up the mess, if there was any chance we could.

“Not by ourselves. No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back,” Alistair added. “Not to mention, I don’t know how. 

“How to defeat the archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me, those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?” Flemeth questioned Alistair, him having more experience than I did.

Alistair pursed his lips as he thought, sucking them inward. “I… I don’t know. Duncan said that the Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."

“The Arl? He’d believe our words over the teyrn’s?” He did seem to be a kind man when I met him before, but I already learned before that appearances didn’t mean everything. Every move could’ve been political and focused.

“I suppose… Arl Eamon wasn’t at Ostagar, he still has all his men. Not to mention he was Cailan’s uncle.” Alistair waited a bit before continuing. “...I know him. He’s a good man, respected in the Landsmeet… of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!”

“Loghain could also be considered a good man to the people.”

“The arl would never do what Loghain did. I know him too well.” Alistair stared at me earnestly. I guess I wouldn’t have a choice but to believe him if he knew him firsthand. He knows more than I do about any of this. “But I don’t know if Arl Eamon’s help would be enough. He can’t defeat the horde all by himself.”

“There’s other factions in Ferelden too, right? There has to be more people we can call on… like the Circle.” Greagoir would probably burst his lid at the gathering of mages outside the Tower, but he would have to just sit in his anger about it. This Blight would have to take all priority above whatever conflict there was now.

“Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid for dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They’re obligated to help us during the Blight, like they did back in Ostagar!”

Flemeth chuckled under her breath. “I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me.”

The refreshed optimism in Alistair’s expression started to give me a new hope. “So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe, and all these other places and… build an army?”

“We apparently can. But I doubt it’ll be that easy,” I said cynically. Where did all my ambition go? All the affinity with Cailain and Alistair’s bright attitudes were the only things keeping me afloat while we were in Ostagar. One of them was still here, at least. I guess all of the failed attempts at preventing the Blight prevented me from ever expecting good things to come. Once I was resolute in earning my place in the Senior Mage’s quarters of the Circle Tower, and now I’m barely clinging to faith in Alistair’s plan to save Ferelden. This attitude wouldn’t get me anywhere. And neither would passivity.

“And when is it ever?” Flemeth laughed aloud.

“It’s always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to stand against a Blight. And right now, we’re the Grey Wardens,” Alistair affirmed, looking to me.

“You’re right. Duncan expected us to be worthy of the title,” I responded to him, staring back.

“So you are set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?” Flemeth questioned us. 

“Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth.” 

“Oh, there is one more thing I wish to offer you before you leave…” Before Flemeth could reveal her offer, Morrigan strolled out to us from the hut. 

“The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have two guests for the eve or none?” Morrigan asked her mother. I was hesitant to look at her directly because of the vulnerable moment I had back inside. 

“The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them,” Flemeth revealed. What a double-edged blade of an idea! The extra power and her cunning would be a great addition to our little team, but the bickering between her and Alistair would be incredibly trying. _Bigger picture,_ I reflexively thought to myself. 

Morrigan looked to me and Alistair with a fake impression of sadness. “Such a shame-- What?”

“You heard me, girl! The last time I looked, you had ears!” Flemeth jeered, laughing her signature hearty howl. 

“We appreciate the offer, but if she doesn’t want to come with us…” I trailed off. 

“Don’t be so polite. Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde.”

“Have I no say in this?” Morrigan asked indignantly. 

Flemeth looked at her with a squint. “You have been itching to get out of these Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives.”

“Uh, very well then.” I didn’t want to refuse her, knowing that she was right.

“Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won’t this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she’s an apostate,” Alistair cautioned. I stared at him, blinking. Why is that everyone I’ve travelled with simultaneously forgotten that I was a mage? A _mage_ with _mage_ abilities and a huge _mage_ staff that was almost my own height. Sure, I was a Warden now, but the Chantry would take any chance they could to catch me using magic “unlawfully” as they considered it.

“Look at who you’ve been tasking with, lad! If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on top of the tower,” Flemeth called him out.

“...Point taken.” Alistair drew himself back, a bitter look on his face like he’d been scolded by one of his parents. Clearly he said it as a way to potentially avoid her coming along.

Morrigan still held her indignance. “Mother… this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready--” 

“You must be ready.” Flemeth cut her off. “Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I.” 

“I… understand,” Morrigan sighed, caving into her mother’s request.

Flemeth turned her face to me and Alistair, a wrinkled hand grasping Morrigan’s elbow. “And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed.” Alistair and I both nodded.

“Allow me to get my things, if you please. It would be wise to get your own from the chest inside the hut.” 


	16. Cutting Loses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After deliberating with Flemeth and Alistair about your course of action pertaining to the Blight, you set off with Morrigan now in your party. Somewhere along the dirt roads next to the Imperial Highway, you also find a familiar mabari hound...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Self-Mutilation

Alistair and I stood outside Flemeth’s hut, waiting for Morrigan to bring out her belongings so we could finally depart from the Wilds. Sitting in my damp clothes made me itch, especially when I realized I hadn’t washed myself in a long while. I didn’t dare breathe in my own stench, though. Raking my hair between my fingers and sliding a coily strand between two, I made a croaking grunt. I could feel the excess oil from my hair as I rubbed my two fingers against my thumb on the same hand. Checking up on Alistair behind me, I watched him wearily stare into space. After a few seconds, he met my eyes, framing himself upright to knock himself back into his normal state. 

“Do you need more rest before we go?” I asked him with concern. If the darkspawn won the battle as Morrigan said they had, Duncan, presumably, had died. I couldn’t process the thought. Neither could I process the entire army dying along with him. What was Loghain thinking? 

“No, I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Probably just hungry,” Alistair said, visibly lightening up a little. I smiled at him and looked back to the hut, still heavily concerned. I knew he lying. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about what we were both thinking, but all this time I’ve been passive. There were times I never said something or didn’t call someone out. There were times I should’ve pressed and urged, but I didn’t. Maybe that’s why I’m where I am now. 

I had to speak up. Alistair said he’d be there for me, for anything and everything. I needed to repay him that same favor. “Alistair, remember what you said to me after my Joining? Not about the dreams, but about… being there for me?” 

“Of course, you need to talk?” The same concern I had painted Alistair’s tired face.

“No, no, I’m fine-- I’m worried about you, actually. Morrigan told me you weren’t doing well after you learned about what happened in Ostagar.” 

Alistair didn’t respond to me at first, instead staring at me and then looking off into space once more. “I don’t want to talk about it. Everything’s too tender to even think about, but I’m still doing that anyway.”

I spun my Circle ring while it was on my index finger, unusually nervous. “Oh, sorry. I...  just wanted you to know that I’m here for you too. You knew all those men on the battlefield,” I avoid saying Duncan’s name directly, “When you’re ready, don’t hesitate to vent about everything that’s on your mind. You don’t have to suffer through any of this alone either. You’re my partner-- not even that, you’re my friend.” 

Alistair slowly nodded, taking in my words. As he tried to speak, his voice cracked slightly, “Thank you. I know I joke around a lot but… I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s cared about me as much as you have, save for Duncan or… anyone else. Maybe we can talk later. I would cry but I don’t have any tears after I bawled my eyes out earlier. In front of Flemeth, no less!”

“Well, even if she’s the Witch of the Wilds, she should understand our being emotional. And you’re not alone in that regard, either. There weren’t a lot of people in the Circle that cared about me beyond obligation, besides our First Enchanter. I just wanted to break that cycle of… not caring. Not speaking up when you’re supposed to.”

“You know… anyone else would’ve laughed at the idea of me crying in front of an old woman outside her hut, but not you.” Alistair finally started to smile. “I find myself relating to you a lot yet also discovering things that make us so different. I deflect terrible situations with humor, you try to fix things and… care. You really care.”

I awkwardly chuckled to myself, feeling pleased yet uneasy at the compliment. I guess he was telling the truth if I reacted that way. “I suppose I do. But, before I forget, how do you know this Arl Eamon so well? You speak of him as if he raised you.”

Alistair seemed to be taken aback by the question. “Did I say that? I meant to say that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s not what I remember you telling Flemeth.”

“Well if you’re going to pay attention to the facts, then fine, fine.” Alistair gave a smirk and scratched the underside of his chin. “Let’s see. How do I explain this? I’m a bastard. And before you make any comments, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn’t my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head.”

I tilted my head and frowned. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry. I can relate to not really knowing either of my parents, but not to that extent. Do you know any other details about them?”

“I know who I was told was my father. He died even before my mother did, anyhow,” Alistair waved a hand in the air to dismiss my concern, “It isn’t important. The arl was good to me in their absence, and he didn’t have to be. I respect the man and I don’t blame him any more for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough.” He paused and crossed his arms before going on, me keeping my questions to myself. “Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her.”

He didn’t seem happy to say so. “Love breaks all barriers, doesn’t it?”

Alistair’s brows popped up momentarily. “Sure, but it didn’t bode as well for me. The new arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as his bastard. They weren’t true, but of course they existed. The arl didn’t care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery of age ten. Just as well. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by that point. She despised me.”

“What? But, you were just a child that had no control of your surroundings or how you were born…” I could’ve easily alluded his experience to my entering the Circle Tower. You were hated if you did and hated if you didn’t. 

“Maybe. She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can’t say I blame her. She wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet.” Alistair chewed on his bottom lip and drifted away for a moment, then looking at me. “You know… I remember I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother’s. I was so furious at being sent away that I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered,” he shook his head, “Stupid, stupid thing to do. The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything… and eventually he just stopped coming.”

Alistair’s brooding had steadily extended its’ influence onto me, making me frown more. I suppressed the urge to wrap him into the most binding hug he’d ever experienced. He already lost his parents, both of his father figures, and now everyone at Ostagar. I couldn’t imagine anyone else that suffered so much lose and grief.

“You were young,” I tried to affirm him.

“And raised by dogs. Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act like that, I don’t know. All I know is that the arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. He also was King Cailan’s uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did.”

“I bet. But, who knows, maybe he even wishes to see you again. I’m sorry if this comes out dismissive, but… maybe he didn’t come back because he believed you despised him yourself. Simple miscommunications happen like that very often.” 

Alistair shrugged with his shoulders. “Maybe, maybe. I’ll never know unless I see him, right?”

I smiled at him in an attempt to make him do the same. “Right.”

Our vulnerable conversation was cut short as Morrigan came out of the hut, carrying a black, decaying wooden staff on her back and a leather satchel that had tears on its’ sides, revealing objects inside that looked like books and other things that I couldn’t determine. She strolled over to us, an expression on her face that seemed to be a scowl. 

“I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. ‘Tis not far and you will find much you need there,” she informed us. “Or if you prefer, I shall be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

“No, we need your help. Every opinion or idea is needed,” I said. 

The three of us heard Flemeth’s howling as she came behind Morrigan. “You will regret saying that!”

Morrigan turned to her mother, her scowl intensified. “Dear, sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment.” 

“Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it a decade or two afterwards,” Flemeth added. Now she was starting to recite her odd aphorisms again. 

I heard Alistair shift in his armor behind me. “I just… do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?” 

“The both of us have no idea what do from here besides getting to Redcliffe, minding the journey. We need all the help we can get,” I said to him.

“...You’re right. Taking allies where we can find them I suppose.” 

“I am so pleased to have your approval,” Morrigan mockingly stated. Before the discussion could devolve into an argument, I needed to get some clarity on where we’d be going.

“If I can ask, how is this village you mentioned?” I abruptly asked.

Morrigan’s amber eyes switched to mine. “‘Tis a small village of no consequence called Lothering. No more than a stop along your Imperial Highway where travelers purchase goods from local farms and smiths. I would go more often were it not for the town’s chantry. It makes the village particularly intolerant and unpleasant for a stranger such as me.”

“A chantry? And they never, in all this time, thought that maybe you were a witch?” Alistair butted in. 

“Of course they have. They even called the templars once. They found nothing,” Morrigan replied, a questionable smile spread across Flemeth’s lips as she must’ve taught her the trick.

“Neither of us should have any problems if they can believe me or Alistair are Wardens, I hope,” I tried to affirm her. 

“They probably won’t even believe Grey Wardens exist in Ferelden if news already went out about what happened,” Alistair said.  

“All the reason more to quickly get what you need and leave the village. If I predict correctly, soon there will be no more of it once the horde extends its’ reach from the ruins.” Morrigan added, soon turning to her mother’s gaze. “Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut.”

“Bah! ‘Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight,” Flemeth teased with a smolder.

Morrigan had an expression of genuine regret. “I… all I meant was…”

“Yes, I know. Try to have fun, dear.”

Flemeth bid us farewell, exiting back into her hut from the nature of the Wilds. Morrigan turned to me, pulling a wrinkled sheet of parchment out of her satchel. “‘Tis a map of Ferelden’s locations. Though I shall be your guide for now, it would be wise to hold your own weight.” 

“Right, thank you.” Taking the map from her hand, I started to scan over it myself. Alistair scanned it with me over my shoulder, pointing at a symbol of a castle placed under Lake Calenhad and right below the Circle Tower, leaning a bit to the left. Seeing the Circle insignia on the lake made me feel a bit homesick. 

“There. There’s Redcliffe Castle. Funny, I don’t remember it being so far away from here,” Alistair commented. His breath passed over my neck, making me shiver. He noticed, stepping back a little. “Sorry.”

Morrigan was already ahead, strolling between the lit torches that lead out of the Wilds. I folded up the map, stuffing it in one of my belt’s small packs. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s follow before she leaves us behind.”

“Oh, right, our guide. Guess it’s too late to ask Flemeth if she had an extra bowl of stew...”

I blew air out of my nose and shook my head. “Looking at you, I can already tell one bowl wouldn’t be enough to sate your hunger. We’ll try to find you something to eat at Lothering if it has everything we need.” 

Alistair quietly sobbed, rubbing his stomach and slumping down. “Alright. You say that like you’re not dying from starvation.” 

I looked back at him with a grin as I walked ahead, following Morrigan. “I guess I am a bit hungry. We’ll see how unbearable it gets by the time we arrive.” 

Alistair dragged himself along, catching up to me. “Carry me if I collapse along the way, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

* * *

**Landsmeet**

“...and I expect each of you to supply these men. We must rebuild what was lost at Ostagar, and quickly,” Loghain stated to the associates of the Landsmeet. His daughter, Anora Mac Tir, watched behind him as he delivered his declaration. “There are those who would take advantage of our weakened state if we let them. We must defeat this darkspawn incursion, but we must do so sensibly and without hesitation.” 

Teagan Guerrin, Bann of Rainsefere and brother of Arl Eamon, walked to front of the crowd, excusing himself between the members of the Landsmeet. “Your lordship, if I might speak?” 

Loghain paused, staring at him in silence. Taking the quiet as permission, Teagan began to speak, “...You have declared yourself Queen Anora’s regent, and claim we must unite under your banner for our own good. But what of the army lost at Ostagar? Your withdrawal was most… fortuitous.” 

“Everything I have done has been to secure Ferelden’s independence. I have not shirked my duty, and neither will any of you!” Loghain quietly seethed at his gall, taking his words as insolence. 

“The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it!” 

Loghain pointed an armored finger at the bann, and then waved it towards the rest of the crowd. “Understand this: I will brook no threat to this nation… from you or anyone!” 

The teyrn left the scene with his band of guards, leaving Anora behind. Promptly, Anora stood in his position above the crowd. “Bann Teagan, please!” 

Before he could leave, Teagan turned to face her. “Your Majesty. Your father risks civil war. If Eamon were here…”

“Bann Teagan, my father is doing what he knows best.”

“Did he also do what was best for your husband, your Majesty?” Taking his leave, he left Anora to stand in the Landsmeet chamber, disoriented. 

* * *

**Samile**

Proceeding to the Imperial Highway, we finally caught a view of its’ colossal stone structure as we walked on the dirt road beside it. It was nearing sunset, an orange glow beginning to paint everything caught in the sun’s light. I looked up to the sky, seeing its’ blueness convert into its’ complementary color. Alistair was reading the map of Ferelden beside me while Morrigan walked ahead, occasionally glancing at the area around us. I felt bad about taking her away from her home, even if Flemeth insisted.

“Morrigan, are you sure this is what you want?” I called out to her. 

Morrigan didn’t stop in her tracks, nor did she look back at me. “‘Tis far too late for me to go back now, when we are already nearing Lothering. Besides, Mother wishes for me to expand the horizon of experience beyond the Wilds,” pausing, she turned to Alistair and I before she started to speak again, “What I want is to see mountains. I wish to witness the oceans and step into its’ waters. I want to experience a city rather than see it in my mind. So, yes, this is what I want.”

“I’m glad then. I wish it could’ve been at a better time, and not when everything is about to be sucked up by the Blight,” I said jokingly.

“When you live in the unmitigated fierceness of the Wilds, everything that you might ordinarily see as a challenge turns into something tameable. The darkspawn are not a deterrent for me.”

Alistair cast his eyes towards her, still holding the map up to his face. “Have you ever fought one before? Wouldn’t be a good idea to underestimate them.”

“No, but believing yourself as helpless in the face of one will make no difference. The moment you view yourself as insubordinate to your enemy is the moment your fate is sealed.”

“Hmm, that makes… a lot of sense,” I admitted. 

Alistair sucked in air between his teeth as he proceeded to read. Morrigan reminded me of how I was in the Tower, save the adaptation for solitude. The difference between me and Morrigan is that she wanted to leave and I didn’t. I envied her strength, to be honest. Maybe I could learn from her. As I finished reflecting, hushed, chilling voices started to flood my ears, progressively getting louder as we walked along the road. Alistair stopped, slowly stuffing the map into my belt pack. 

“Do you hear what I’m hearing?” Alistair kept his eyes faced to his front, ahead of Morrigan.

“Uh. Yes. Yes I do.”

Morrigan turned to us, one of her brows arched. Beyond the voices, I started to hear the sound of small, thumping footsteps, as well as barking. A mabari started to sprint in our direction, rounding the wooden fence on our left. Brushing past Morrigan, it stopped in front of me, whining. It looked so familiar… the light brown fur, black snout, and short tail. Was this the dog back in Ostagar? Ahead, I could see a group of… _them_. The commander, which Alistair would call a “emissary”, directed its’ followers to stand by as it advanced towards us. Black tar coated their footprints on the ground as they marched. 

Not forgetting what happened at the Wilds, I knew to take care of the emissary first. Simultaneously, they armed themselves, rushing towards the four of us. Alistair and the mabari ran ahead, not letting them take the chance to overwhelm us. Morrigan stood with me, already preparing a spell. Gathering the air with her hands, she started to form a miasma on her fingers.

In reaction, I pulled out my staff, drawing an ornate glyph in the air with it. Under the emissary’s feet, a paralytic light shaped in the form of the glyph imprisoned it. The brute struggled to move, unable to overpower the paralysis, at least not for long. Morrigan placed her hands outward, the miasma in her hands drifting towards the group and dispersing itself among them.

“Morrigan...” Alistair and the mabari were still inside. They would breathe in the impure air and Maker knows what would happen. 

Still placing her hands outward, I could see the miasma concentrate itself around the darkspawn, clearing the way to see them both still on their feet. “I know what I am doing! When I cannot manage this cloud any longer is when you should start to worry.”

The minor darkspawn started to choke and falter, trying to break away from the miasma by swatting the air with their hands and weapons. In their attempts at breaking away, they started to work themselves into a frenzy, madly dashing towards us and out of the way of Alistair and the mabari. The mabari chased them down, snagging their ankles to make them fall. She was successful, as a few did. 

“Repel them! The cloud will make any damage effective!” Morrigan shouted! 

The mabari started to drag her captured foes back, rapidly chomping down on their necks. Alistair stood behind the emissary, quickly impaling it from behind while it was still paralyzed. Bumping its’ body off with his shield, he unsteadily darted towards the darkspawn between us. 

“Alistair, stand back, now!” Fear and focus ran through me as I charged a steaming, fiery energy through my staff with both of my hands. I could already tell this would be the most exhausting spell I’ve ever casted. Dragging my staff to my left, I released a great fire stream from the tip of my staff, veering it to my right to spray the frenzied darkspawn. They were blown back by the force of it, their bodies ablaze as they rolled on the dirt floor. Already feeling the fatigue of magic exhaustion, I fell to my knees, dropping the staff out of my hands. Also feeling a searing pain, I looked down to see a sizeable burnt tear in both of my gloves, burns travelling across my palms. Though I could only see the damage on my hands through the tearing, I felt stinging along my wrist and fingers. I made a repressed whimper, even though I really wanted to shout. 

Morrigan stood, hands on her hips and barely exhausted. “When I said any damage would be effective, I meant even the most minimal.”

“I… I…” Thoughts and apologies started to swarm around in my mind as I couldn’t vocalize them. I didn’t even know if I could stand. Another misguided plan of mine. 

Morrigan bent down, retrieving something out of her satchel. Pulling out a vial of glowing, blue liquid, she plucked its’ cork off and sat in front of me. She pushed my head back, holding the vial above my mouth. 

“You should find this familiar. Drink.” Morrigan dipped the vial, my mouth starting to fill with the tasteless flavor of… lyrium. I gulped, taking it in all at once. Plugging the cork back on the vial, Morrigan placed it back into her satchel. I knew I was starting to regain myself once the haziness in my vision started to fade away. “Why would you not carry any lyrium with you? It is a mage’s lifeforce, is it not?” 

I coughed, shaking my head. “In retrospect, I didn’t think I’d be in this situation a few days ago. Thank you, Morrigan...” 

Morrigan started to bring me up, placing her hands on my forearms and making me stand. She looked down at mine, frowning at the burns. “Well, I am afraid I cannot do anything about these. We will see what we can find in Lothering.”

“Are you alright?” Alistair shakily asked as he walked over. The entirety of his shield was blackened from the burst, but I could still see the insignia of the winged creature on it. 

“Your shield…” I said, carefully taking my wounded hands out of Morrigan’s grasp. The torn spots stung as they brushed over the velvet texture of my brigandine, making me wince and grit my teeth. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that--” Alistair’s thought was cut off by heavy mabari panting. The dog ran over, her mouth bloodied from the indirect feasting. In any case, I was glad to see she was okay. To contrast, Alistair recoiled at the sight. “Uh…”

“I think she saved us. It could’ve been an ambushed had she not warned us.” Bending down, I started to pet her head with the back of my glove, minding the burns.

Alistair bent down with me, switching his eyes between me and the dog as if he was trying to find a resemblance between us. Alistair fixed his eyes on the dog, squinting. “Who do you belong to?” The mabari started to get closer to me, almost leaning on me with her full weight. As if to respond, she looked back at Alistair, sitting down next to me as close as she could without knocking me over. Alistair had a satisfied look on his face, nonverbally communicating with her. “Yup. She’s… chosen you. It seems like she was out there looking for you.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful,” Morrigan deplored, keeping her distance.

“She’s not mangy!” Alistair retorted, scratching behind her ears. “Maybe a little blood-hungry, but not mangy.”

“How can you tell? She looks familiar, but…” I doubted.

“If you think it, it’s probably that mabari you saved back in Ostagar. The one you got the Andraste’s Grace for.” Alistair stood, stopping the scratching and dusting off his gloves. “Listen, mabari as a whole are the most brightest and perceptive animals Ferelden has ever known. That trainer or kennel master probably even told you the same thing. It’s not unlikely that she remembered that you saved her life, and she intends to repay you for it whether you like it or not.” 

Looking up at Alistair, I shifted my view back to the mabari. She was perfectly content to sit and stare at me with her wide eyes, waiting for something. Maybe waiting for the magic words: _I claim you_. She already lost one master from the darkspawn, and now she needed another. I made up my mind. If Alistair was correct, it wouldn’t even be an option for me to get rid of her, not that I wanted to. “...Mouse. I’ll call her Mouse.” The name just stuck out in my mind. Probably not the best name to give to your faithful animal companion given who it belonged to, but if I changed my mind I would be stuck thinking about it for days.

“Pfft--” Alistair tried to suppress a laugh. “Ha, Mouse! That’s… that’s definitely a name.” 

Morrigan sat back with a disapproving, smug smile. “And how brilliant of a name it is.” 

“Well, if you both would like the pleasure of naming her, you’d be absolutely welcome to!” I snapped. 

“If that’s the case, how about… and get ready for this… Barkspawn?” Alistair replied with a silly yet adorable grin rising up to his cheeks. I pursed my lips to contain my own laughter. Alistair looked between me and Morrigan, still smiling. “Huh? How about it? I've been working on that name for months.”

Morrigan had a completely blank look on her face as she spoke for the both of us, “...’Tis Mouse for the dog then.” 


	17. Obstacle After Obstacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally arrive with your party in Lothering. Along the refugee-filled village, you find the templars of the Chantry, all with equally bad news.

After a grueling four days on foot, our party of four could see Lothering in our immediate sights as we abandoned the dirt roads and traversed along the actual highway. One hand on my staff, I used it for support as I walked. We reached the dirt roads in two days, minding our little camping pit-stops, and now we finally reached Lothering after the other half. During the trip, I took the convenience of healing my likely second-degree burns with some restorative magic. It couldn’t take away the small blisters that started to grow along the inside of my wrists, though. The pigment was totally changed, leaving a pale pinkish color that formed an uneven pattern against my unaffected dark skin. I hid the results of my unrestrained spell from Alistair and Morrigan as well as I could, even though Morrigan had seen the beginning of it. I didn’t want them to see me like… this. At the  _ weakest _ I’ve ever been. 

Coming down the highway, we saw a clique of lightly armored men that were either dozing off or counting coins near a fallen wooden cart. Two of them marched up to us, making up stop in our tracks. Mouse quietly growled, unfamiliar with the men.

“Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to. I’d guess the elf is the leader,” one of the two men said, instantly making my stomach turn. I sort of knew what to expect, given the greeting. 

“What was that?” Alistair asked defensively, closely standing behind me.

“Err… they don’t look much like them others, you know. Uh… maybe we should just let these ones pass…” The latter warned his partner.

“Nonsense! Greetings, travelers. My apologies for the remark,” the first man spoke.

I could hear Alistair lowly hum to himself. “Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose.”

“They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson,” Morrigan hissed, focusing her piercing eyes on the highwaymen as if they were the true prey. 

“Now is that any way for an apostate to greet someone? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on,” the highwayman blackmailed. 

Noticing the rising tension between my companions and the highwaymen, I had to curb the potential clash, “We’re not refugees. We’ll be in as quickly as we’ll be out.” I couldn’t fight-- not right now. My body cried for rest through its’ aching, and my hands pressed me to find a balm or an ointment to soothe the blisters. 

“What did I tell you? No wagons, and they all looked armed, except for the dog,” the second highwayman observed. 

“The toll applies to everyone, Hanric. That’s why it’s a toll and not, say, a refugee tax.”

“Oh, right. Even if you’re no refugee, you still gotta pay.” 

I rolled my eyes. Morrigan stepped up, placing her satchel on the floor along with her black staff. “I suggest you fill our pockets instead.”

“Can they do that?” Hanric asked the first highwayman.

“No, of course they--” As they argued, Morrigan’s body disappeared into a cloud of black smoke, the cloud reforming itself into the shape of a massive black bear. Alistair and I were as surprised as the highwaymen, stumbling back from the sight of her mass. Mouse started to bark, me quieting her with hushes and placing a steady hand on her back to calm her. Morrigan crept towards them until she was close to their faces, waiting for one of them to break and start speaking. 

“Th--... the…” She impatiently roared, making them recoil back even further. “The cart! Everything we have is in the cart! We--we--we’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!”

Morrigan walked over to the fallen cart, her body disappearing into another black cloud to revert back to her human body. “What about these chests?” Morrigan calmly asked, finding hidden chests in the wreckage of the cart. 

“Y-Yes, those too. Sorry.”

“I was only going to collect half before you lied. Run before we take your lives as well as your coin.” Following her request, they collectively ran, some of them tripping on their feet.

As soon as they were gone, I stopped holding my breath. Mouse ran over to the gateway stairs leading downward to Lothering, watching them run to wherever the Maker knows. Rummaging around in the cart, Morrigan looked unsatisfied. “A few sovereigns and a tiny bit over… hopefully the chests will be more promising.” 

“I’m aware of our lack of coin, but don’t you think this is a bit, I don’t know, crude?” Alistair commented. “There must be plenty of refugees that could get it back.”

“And so? Your companion,” Morrigan looked directly at me, “has been hiding burns for the last two days that require attention, and we have yet to find a proper source of food, drink, or a place to rest. Charity is useless, especially here. Lothering’s life barely spans months. If you will not take it, then I will.” 

I withdrew myself from the both of them, mostly due to Morrigan’s first comment. Alistair looked at me with an expression of repentance, trying to mask his frustration. He stormed off and headed down the stairs without a rebuttal.  Mouse followed him as she observed his storming. Strangely, I felt… guilty, even though none of this was my fault. Maybe it was because I couldn’t find a way to disagree with either of them. Lothering’s people most likely needed help due to the Blight’s slow ascent, but we also needed as much help as they did. Especially if we wanted to have a smooth journey to Redcliffe. After standing for a moment, I walked towards one of the chests in the wreckage of the cart, away from Morrigan’s coin-digging. I opened it, seeing more than a dozen small purses of coin messily stacked among jewelry and more pieces of stray coin. 

“Hmm… I believe we have more than we need. What you do with the rest is up to you and your friend-- I am satisfied.” Morrigan jumped off of the cart, stuffing coin-purses in her satchel and descending down the stairs. Without thinking, I followed her. I’ll just redirect the authorities in charge of Lothering to the coin we didn’t take, or steal…

Coming down the stairs with Morrigan, we finally stepped into Lothering’s less than welcoming atmosphere. 

“Well, there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting,” Alistair said dully, standing with Mouse. 

“Ah. So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief and altruism seemed like too much trouble, I take it?” Morrigan mocked. 

Alistair turned to her with a glare. “Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost something important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?” 

“Before or after I stopped laughing?” 

Alistair paused as if he couldn’t understand what she said. “...Right. Very creepy. Forget I asked.”   


“Please stop. Let’s just figure out what to do from here now that we have coin,” I diverged. 

“I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea. These treaties… have you looked at them?” Alistair asked me, shifting the focus of the discussion.

I nodded affirmatively. To admit, I mostly skimmed over them, but I could get the gist of it all. The treaties didn’t delve into the history of their creation as much as I would’ve liked. Then again, this wasn’t Circle knowledge that was freely passed around the entire community for the sake of learning it. 

“Then you know there’s three of each for the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi. I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. I’d even strongly suggest we go to him first.”

“That seems to line up with my train of thought. Morrigan, what do you think?”   


“Go after your enemy directly. Find this man, this teyrn, and kill him. The rest of this business can then be done in safety,” Morrigan responded.

“Yes, he certainly wouldn’t see that coming! And it’s not like he has the advantage of an army and experience and--” Alistair babbled, Morrigan cutting him off.

“I was asked for my opinion and I gave it. If your wish is to come up with reasons why something cannot be done, we will stand here until the darkspawn are upon us.” 

“So we’re all in agreeance then? Going to Redcliffe first?” I interrupted them.

“I’m with you,” Alistair agreed. Morrigan shrugged as a response, which I supposed that meant she was indifferent to the plan. To be honest, there was no other option. 

The treaties were no use as of now-- the idea of building an army with the foundation being two junior Grey Wardens, a witch, and a mabari was absurd. We couldn’t charge into the Landsmeet and stick Loghain’s head on a pike either, but Alistair probably would if he could. I could see it in the way his eyes lit up in flames  whenever he spoke about him. He couldn’t hide it, and some part of me believed that he couldn’t control whether he wanted to or not. Alistair wasn’t a veteran Warden who had seen and done it all before. He was like me: green. 

Entering the Lothering proper, we crossed a refugee camp. Despairing faces surrounded a bonfire, surrounded by tents that could carry families. A mother cradled her child in her arms near the fire, struggling to wrap herself and the child with a thin fleece blanket. As we passed, they leered. Keeping my eyes focused forwards, I tried to avoid brooding about the Blight-caused poverty. 

Ahead, a body in templar armor stood about five yards between a small stone bridge on their left, and a Chantry cathedral on their right. Obstacle after obstacle, it seems. The templar marched over, whatever expression they had hidden by their iron helmet.

“Move on if you must. Lothering’s lost,” the templar stated thickly. 

Arching a brow, I looked back at the refugee camp, some of them still leering at us. “I hope they know that.”

“We’ve had refugees streaming from the south for the last two days. The chantry and tavern are full to bursting. There isn’t even enough food to go around, and we templars can barely keep order. You’d be better off elsewhere… Grey Warden.”

The coldness in their disturbed me. The encounter was smoother than I thought it’d be, but the flippant nature of it told me the Chantry was at its’ wits end. “But--”

“If you have any questions, ask someone else in the town. I mean no offense by this, but,” I could see glassy eyes in the helmet switch between me and Morrigan, “...we just ask that you don’t bring more problems here. People are already frightened.” 

“The sheep should be frightened by the contagion, not the wolves,” Morrigan declared. I interpreted the contagion she talked about as propagated anti-mage sentiment or the Blight itself. 

“I’m just here to keep an eye out for the darkspawn. Voice your concerns to the Chantry yourself,” The templar finished, moving away to their standard position between the bridge and the cathedral. 

“...Everyone’s barely scraping by,” Alistair commented pitifully as he observed the village. 

Sighing, I stared at the top of the cathedral on our right. “...Let’s take up the templar’s offer. Voice our concerns.”

“Oh?” Morrigan purred. “You mean to make a commotion? Do you intend to plead to the Chantry authorities to give up what they unjustly delay?” 

“Not exactly. Morrigan, what you said on the highway held some truth… but what Alistair said was valid as well,” I paused as I was attempting to organize my thoughts, “...I’m trying to find a way to balance it-- one where everyone can get their fair share. Everyone is out for themselves here, but the common people have never experienced fighting for their own lives, not like this. I realize that we still have ourselves to look after, and we can’t protect every living person in Ferelden, but what if we gave them a chance to fight for themselves? Give them a head start?” 

Morrigan raised both of her brows momentarily. “Now that sounds more reasonable, and quite befitting of a leader, I would say. Influencing others to look after themselves for a change.” 

“Well, I wasn’t intending to sound leaderly, just… more collectively, I think.” The idea of me being a leader didn’t sound right in my mind. I just wanted to do everything I could so that everyone could benefit, but I guess if it sounded leaderly, it would just have to sound that way. 

I looked at Alistair before I could get his opinion, my cheeks starting to redden once I saw his old grin again. “Look at you, still thinking about the bigger picture between all of us,” he said. 

“So we all agrees, yes? Let’s just go before you both embarrass me,” I murmured, starting to walk towards the cathedral. I think it was the first time I’ve heard them laugh without it being one-sided. 

Pushing through the stained-glass panel doors, I was met with the deceitfully warm atmosphere of the Chantry. Two wide red runners were placed upon the floor leading to the front of the cathedral, and candelabras or flowers were set upon polished wooden shelves. Benches were orderly placed around the runners, refugees resting on them. The light from outside shone on the refugees praying near a statue of Andraste, making it seem like the Maker himself was watching them. I spotted a templar group nearby, all without their helmets. The armor made them seem like they weren’t even people. Just empty shells waiting to be directed by the Chantry.

“I haven’t been inside one of these for a while. I don’t miss the feeling one bit. They don’t even have the flowers I like,” Alistair mentioned.

“For once, I agree. The eyes of the residents watching my every move slowly makes me reconsider my opinion on your plan,” Morrigan said to me. 

“We’ll make this quick, I promise. I don’t like being here either…” Noticing our presence, two of the un-helmeted templars walked away to the front of the cathedral, one staying and moving over to us. Long, black, slicked hair that slipped into the depths of his massive iron chestpiece, a chiseled, yet surprisingly kind face and brown skin were among his detectable features.

“Who might you…” The templar looked at Mouse as she panted, “... four be?” He interrogated softly, careful to not rouse the refugees or upset the atmosphere of the cathedral. 

“Um, we didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Samile, a… Grey Warden,” I introduced myself, making sure to avoid my affiliation with the Circle for now, “and these are my companions,” I motioned to our party.

“I see… Nicely met. I am Ser Bryant, commander of Lothering’s remaining templars,” Ser Bryant introduced himself back. “Teyrn Loghain declared all Grey Wardens responsible for the king’s death. You know this, I hope?”

I took a second to make sure I didn’t imagine what he had just said. Pausing, I looked to Alistair besides me, his brows furrowed, arms crossed and lips slightly parted. What in the world was going on?

“I’ve heard no such thing. That’s not what happened at Ostagar,” I tried to clarify. 

“I don’t believe the Grey Wardens would be as carefree or malicious as the teyrn claims, but either way, there it is. It is best you not linger, though. Just… in case.”   


I finally figured out why the refugees leered at us so intensely. They believed we were responsible for the situation they were in now. Of course the templars wanted us to disappear, lest the refugees force us out with pitchforks and torches. 

“What’s the most recent news you’ve heard?” Alistair asked before I could.

“Other than the darkspawn horde beating down on us? None of it is good. Teyrn Loghain is set to declare himself as king. Disaster is piled on disaster.” 

Alistair started to pull his familiar trick of masking his frustration, except with a smile this time. “Nice to know.”

“Wait, what do you mean disaster?” I interjected.

“Teyrn Loghain has no legitimate claim to the throne. He may be a hero, and his daughter may be queen, but he is a commoner and the king’s corpse is barely cold. If Arl Eamon was to intervene, perhaps it would not have gone this far,” Ser Bryant regretfully delivered. “I do not care who takes the throne. Only fools fight over who owns a cottage while it burns down around them.” 

“Speaking of the arl, why hasn’t he done anything yet? Is something wrong?” Alistair asked with urgency. 

Ser Bryant grimaced, biting the inner side of his left cheek. “Arl Eamon has fallen ill, and his knights are on a quest for the sacred urn filled with Andraste’s ashes, said to cure any, m’lord. He must be very ill if they chase miracles as the only cure.” 

Despondent, Alistair uncrossed his arms and expired once. Maybe it was a trick of the eyes, but I swore I could see him getting paler. I faced him and stepped closer, anticipating a rightfully displeased reaction.

“Alistair, it’ll be fine,” I asserted, trying not to lie through my teeth. “We’ll just have to get Redcliffe and see what’s going on for ourselves.” 

“Samile-- there’s nothing--” Alistair hands reddened as he balled them into fists. “...We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

“My… apologies, ser Warden,” Ser Bryant said regretfully.  

“No need,” Alistair replied harshly. “Not your fault the world’s going down in flames.” 

“If you’re concerned about Arl Eamon’s health, you should consider talking to one of his men,” Ser Bryant looked to his right, pointing at a man with his back turned reading one of the Chantry’s entries. He wore red-tinged heavy chainmail armor that glinted from the candelabra he stood by, carrying the helmet that completed the set. Dipping his chin, Alistair took the initiative to introduce himself.

“Ser Donall…? Is that you?” Alistair called out to the man, apparently familiar with him.

Folding the book closed with one of his thumbs still on a page, the man alarmingly turned to Alistair’s attention. Before forgetting, I still had to wrap things up with the whole big picture bit. “Ser Bryant, when we arrived here on the Imperial Highway, we encountered some highwaymen. Our friend--” I could sense Morrigan sneering behind me, “--flushed them out before they could tax other refugees. We found bunches of chests with all the gold and possessions they took from them. I suggest you take a look and reimburse the refugees that paid to pass.” 

“Ah, duly noted. I’ll have some of my men take a look and see if they can follow through on your request,” after he spoke, he shook my hand. “It was nice speaking to you, Grey Warden. I hope you can cure the Arl and give back the regrouping Ferelden so desperately needs if it wants to stop this Blight. Godspeed.” Pardoning himself, he walked out of the cathedral’s doors. 

“Alistair? By the Maker, how are you? I… I was certain you were dead!” The arl’s knight opened his arms, giving Alistair a brief yet tight hug. 

Alistair stood back, relaxing himself. “Not yet, no thanks to Teyrn Loghain.” 

“If Arl Eamon were well, he’d set Loghain soon straight soon enough.”

The three of us joined in, standing behind Alistair. Looking back, Alistair gazed at us as if he forgot something. “Oh! So, you all, this is Ser Donall. I knew him when I… when I was younger, I’ll say. Ser Donall, these two and this dog are the reason I’m still standing to this day.” 

Ser Donall took a singular bow to us all, staring at Mouse with an amused expression. I felt slightly embarrassed yet defensive on her behalf. “Ha, well met.” 

“So you’re looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, then?” Alistair asked, a distaste in his voice. 

“I am indeed.” Ser Donall opened the large book, setting it on a table facing him and flipping a few pages. “Andraste’s ashes are said to cure any illness. But I fear we are chasing a fable. With each day, my hope dims. Nothing I have found leads me to believe that this was anything more than a quest of desperation.” He sighed, turning to us again. “I intend to return to Redcliffe soon and tell the arlessa exactly that.” 

“We should journey with you, we’ll need the arl’s help.”

“Why is that?”   


“We need his help against… well, the teyrn.”

“...I see.” Alistair started to bite his lips as Ser Donall reflected on what he’d just heard. “The arl is a popular man, it’s true. Teyrn Loghain, however, is a hero throughout Ferelden. Whatever the teyrn has done or not done, the arl remains ill, or worse. That is my primary concern.” 

Something clicked in my mind when he mentioned both the arl and the teyrn. “Do you think Loghain is involved with all of this? With the arl being ill?”

“Hmph.” Staring elsewhere, Ser Donall rubbed his forehead with his free hand, soon moving it to slick back his short, auburn hair. “The arl fell ill before the king died. But what if Loghain planned that, too? Ah, such thoughts do not sit well with me.” 

Alistair turned his face to mine. “Then we should see what’s happening in Redcliffe ourselves, like you said. I believe that now more than ever.” 

“That would be a good idea. If nothing else, I am certain you would be welcomed at Castle Redcliffe. The arlessa is there, and she could tell you more than I could. And with that, I must go. I need to search for my fellow knight, Ser Henric. Perhaps I can find him and we will meet you at Redcliffe ourselves.” 

“Alright. Hopefully we’ll meet again in better circumstances.” Alistair shook his hand. 

“As do I. Thank you for your help, all of you.” 

I nodded as my own response. We left the cathedral as Ser Donall gathered his belongings and put entries back in their rightful places. Breathing in, Alistair stood before stone steps leading down to Lothering’s commons. Mouse trotted ahead, staying remotely close enough for me to still see her. Morrigan walked down, stretching her arms out. “Alas, we are free from the Chantry’s suffocating grasp...” A few onlookers glared at her, but she didn’t seem to care. 

As I shook my head at Morrigan’s comment, Alistair called out to me, “Samile…” I turned to him, sensing an oncoming apology. “I’m sorry for my reaction back there. I feel like I’m unfolding at the seams. Absolutely nothing has gone the way we expected it to… I’m just frustrated.”

“I understand. Not to mention we haven’t had much rest or time to relax,” I pardoned him. “You know… we could search for these ashes ourselves, if you wish. Even the arlessa is there at Redcliffe Castle. Regardless, there’s still things we can do.” 

“You’re right, you’re right.” Alistair looked off to the Imperial Highway, placing his hands on our hips. “...Let’s get to Redcliffe before we decide to do anything else. We’ll need to see how bad the arl’s condition is. If we travel as quickly as we did on the highway, we should be there in about… five days, I’d say.” 

I started to walk down the stairs before I spoke. “Hmm. We’ll need to stock up on whatever we can find in the village. Tents, blankets, food, whatever. Morrigan believes we’ll have the coin for it.” 

Alistair made an long, unsure hum as he followed me. “I still feel weird about that…”   


“I told Ser Bryant about the rest of the coin we saw. He said him and the rest of the templars would handle it. Maybe they’ll disperse it around.” 

“Alright then. Guess we don’t have much of a choice.”

“...Things will start to look up. I’m sure of it.” I’m not sure I believed my own words.

“I believe you.” 


	18. Unofficial Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the bad news Lothering offered to you, you find diamonds in the rough-- two new party members who swear to aid you in vanquishing the Blight.

After exiting the Chantry cathedral, it didn’t take us long to locate the tavern that the templar near the bridge spoke of. Alistair left us briefly as he said there was something he needed, but we weren’t even by the cathedral at this point. Well, we’d probably be at the inn for a while anyway. Pushing through the inn’s wooden door, we were met with a decently sized rustic tavern, filled to the brink with refugees. A fireplace lit up the room from the left side of it, casting shadows of chairs and round tables across the entirety of the tavern. Two men in silver chainmail met us at the entrance, others in similar armor standing near them. 

“Well. Look what we have here, men. I think we’ve just been blessed,” One of them announced.

“I do not suppose you are affiliated with these men?” Morrigan whispered.

“Not at all, but they look like the teyrn’s. We saw them back at Ostagar when we were scaling the Tower of Ishal,” I whispered back.

“Didn’t we spend all morning asking about an elf by this very description? And everyone said they hadn’t see him?” The second man spoke.

The former glared at me. “It seems we were lied to.” 

“Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble--” a Chantry priestess interjected, standing between us while she faced the teyrn’s men. I could see a dagger outline itself through the right side of her Chantry garb. She didn’t look like the brawling type, but maybe that’s what her appearance tried to convey. Her cherry-red hair cut into a short bob, stilling blue eyes and doe-eyed look masked something threatening. “--these are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge.” 

“They’re more than that. Now stay out of way, sister. You protect this traitor, you’ll get the same as him,” the first man warned her. “Enough talk. Take the Warden into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way.”

“Right! Let’s make this quick!” The second of the teyrn’s men said, preparing to apprehend me. Before he could do so, the sister pulled the dagger through her garb, stabbing him through his hand. 

Refugees hid at the sight of the blood, cowering behind tables and escaping into other rooms of the inn. The man staggered back, squeezing his wrist and crying out in pain. Morrigan quickly pulled out her staff, whopping the commander’s head with the tip and jabbing the end of it into his stomach, pushing him to the ground. Mouse immediately went at his feet, dragging him around the tavern floors and making sure he hit the legs of tables along the way. That seemed to be her favorite way of attacking.

I stood back, placing my staff in front of me defensively. A few bowmen stood in the back, primed to release their strings. Instinctively, I erected a barrier, spreading the magical energy of it to Morrigan and the sister. A blue glow started to outline their figures, but I was too afraid to focus more energy, considering what happened on the dirt roads. I didn’t know what effect could result from exertion, and I didn’t want to find out now. As expected, they fired, arrows bouncing off the surface or simply grazing it. The shield would gradually wear away from too much contact.

Picking a dagger off the man she’d just injured, the priestess tossed it and the dagger she had previously at the bowmen, each delaying in a fraction of a second before they pinned their hands to the walls. 

“All right, you’ve won! We surrender!” The commander shouted, still being dragged by Mouse. 

“Mouse!” I called to her. She abruptly finished, growling as she pounced back to stand by me. 

“Good. They’ve learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now,” the priestess stated softly, pulling the daggers out of the bowmen’s pinned hands. Blood was never supposed to cover Chantry garments, and I could see why. They scrambled to their place near their commander, grunting in pain as they attempted to get him back on his feet. 

Releasing the barrier, I relaxed from my defensive position. “Before you can scurry out of this inn, answer me a few questions, will you?”

“Fine.” He suppressed a grunt as he stood, bending the knee of the leg Mouse used to drag him around. 

I could hear the inn’s door open behind me and immediately close, slow, yet heavy iron footsteps continuing until they stopped directly behind me. Everyone blankly stared at whoever it was. Looking behind me, I realized it was Alistair, his eyes widened as he took in the scene. “I leave for just a second and I come back to this.”

I uneasily shifted my focus back to the teyrn’s men. “What happened at Ostagar?”

“I was there! The teyrn pulled us out of a trap. The king led himself to his own death!” The commander answered quickly. 

“Start running. Say nothing of this encounter or I will assure that we’ll finish this brawl the way it should’ve been finished.”

“That can be managed… men, let’s… let’s just go…” Reassembling, the teyrn’s men collectively shuffled out of the inn, wounded. Slowly enough, the refugees wandered back into the tavern, no longer leering. Distastefully cleaning her dagger with her sleeve, the sister walked over from the blood-stained wall. 

“You realize you would do more harm by sending them away?” Morrigan warned.

“Let’s just leave them as an example for Loghain. We need to show him we’re not afraid,” I asserted.

“I apologize for interfering, but I couldn’t sit by and not help,” she explained. “Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.”

“We’re appreciative of the help. My name is Samile,” I greeted back.

“Those men said you’re a Grey Warden. You will be battling darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?” The more she spoke, the more I could hear her Orlesian accent. “I know after what happened, you’ll need all the help you can get. That’s why I’m coming along.”

“Um…” I didn’t know how to respond to such insistence. “What you say is true, the help is needed, but why did you insist?”

“The Maker told me so.” 

What else would a sister of the Chantry say? “Oh. Well, we--... can you elaborate on that?”

She slid a lock of red hair behind her left ear. “I-I know that sounds… absolutely insane-- but it’s true! I had a dream… a vision!” 

I saw Alistair part his mouth wide open and close it after a few seconds. “You know what… on second thought, I’ll just be quiet.” 

“Look at the people here. They are lost in despair, and this darkness, this chaos… will spread. The Maker doesn’t want this,” Leliana explained further. “What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker’s work. Let me help!”

Though you wouldn’t think it, I could understand her thought process. When you view something as absolute, the world seemingly bends to its’ will in your eyes. Faith, goals, hope, wishes-- anything. Whatever matter of energy you send out should eventually come back to you if you’re obstinate on believing it will. “...Okay. It’s not up to just me, though.”

“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought...” Morrigan said. “As long as you do not preach about how uncivilized you find me, ‘tis fine. Do not expect me to be warm.”

“I have absolutely no clue on what just happened but… sure,” Alistair said with uncertainty. 

Leliana seemed to be ecstatic, her thin lips spread into a smile. “Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance, and I will not let you down.”

“You going to make more trouble? We’ve about all we can stand in Lothering now,” an innkeeper begged, standing behind a bar to our right.

“Oh!” Leliana turned to him, grooming whatever part on her body that wasn’t stained with blood. “My dearest and greatest apologies, I’ll take full responsibility of the damages.”

“They had it coming, and they were trouble enough themselves. So long as you don’t start more, I won’t get excited.”

I looked to Morrigan. “Do you still have the coin?”

Rolling her eyes, Morrigan easily slipped out a coin purse from her satchel and gave it to me. “Remember to allocate our funds wisely.” 

Thanking and acknowledging her request with a nod, I brought the purse over to the innkeeper’s counter. “This should cover it.” Keeping an eye on me, he took the purse and loosened the two strings on its’ end. Peering into its’ contents, he started to juggle it on one hand. 

“Appreciated,” The innkeeper thanked. “Name’s Danal. Sorry I can’t chat much… as you see, we’ve a full house.”

I looked back, observing the masses of refugees taking their uncomfortable occupance in the tavern. Leliana chatted with them, her hands bound in a prayer-like motion up to her chest while she spoke. Alistair leaned on the bar next to me, facing the entire tavern while Mouse took a short rest on the floor. Morrigan was the odd one out, as she was away from the crowd and standing by the entrance.

“I can see. I’ll make this quick-- would you happen to be carrying any travelling supplies in stock?” I asked Danal, turning back to him. 

“Anything specific?”

“Well…” A question that should’ve been easy to answer, but wasn’t. Every time I’ve camped, someone was always looking out for supplies for the rest of us-- I never had to worry about what we did or didn’t need. Alistair shot up, raising a finger.

“Hold on, let me deal with that,” he interrupted. “We’ll need… hmm… tents, bedrolls and blankets, firewood,” Danal started to write the orders on a sheet, crossing checkmarks on the side as he mentally searched the inn’s stock, “...maybe an extra lantern or so, a good supply of utensils, a castpot, some spare food or water if you’re able to offer any, any seasonings you could do without… anything else?” Alistair shifted his face towards me as he leaned into the bar, placing his hands on both ends of it.

“First aid, soap, and needles,” I replied quickly. 

Danal set his writing instrument down, turning the sheet to Alistair’s direction so he could check for assurance. “We’ve more bedrolls than tents, I’m afraid. Three will have to satisfy,” Danal informed. “Luckily for you, we can spare some food and drink, albeit in small proportions. I hope you know how to hunt.”

Alistair pouted, nodding his head as he read the list. “You have everything else, at least. Sorry we came at such a bad time for business.” 

Danal shook his head. “If you’re willing to pay coin, I’ll give up mostly anything. We can buy more essentials for these poor souls… if you’ll excuse me, I’ll prepare your things.”

“Of course, thank you,” Alistair pardoned. As Danal walked away, he shifted to me, smiling softly. “Guess we’ll have to share a tent, unless you’d like to sleep with Mouse outside.”

I absently stared at Mouse resting below me. I’ve never had anyone sleeping in the same bed with me. Well, it’d be bedrolls and covers, but the idea was still there. It was hard to admit, but Alistair had a way of… getting under my skin. Making me put down my guard. Making me totally unravel. “When you put it that way, sharing a tent doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I snore too… we’ll be the best of tent-mates.” I groaned at his teasing, resting my forehead against the cold, wooden bar and cradling my head with my arms. I could hear Alistair snicker behind me as he lightly patted my back. “I’m only joking! Just give me a good sock in the arm when I do that-- it shuts me up and it might prevent future actions depending on how hard it hurts after.”

“I’d rather turn you into a frog,” I muffled.

“What was that?” A warmness rose on my left as Alistair leaned closer to me.

“Frog time.” Alistair’s snickering continued, the contagious laughter starting to influence me to irrationally smile.

“Oh, anything but that!” I sat up, acting as if is I was going to retrieve staff from my back. “Okay, okay!”

Mouse whined at Alistair, which I assumed was her rightfully defending me from harassment. He noticed, bending down and fondling her face. “I’m sorry, it’s just so easy to mess with him. Oh, you understand, don’t you?”

After waiting for a moment, Danal returned, carrying a large sack and setting it upon the counter. Morrigan clued in, retrieving a few purses out of her satchel and placing them on the counter beside the sack. “I will be outside, if you three are finished here,” she bluntly said as walked outside of the tavern.

Being considerate of the purses’ position, Alistair heaved the sack off the counter, resting it over his shoulder as he effortlessly endured the weight of it with a firm hand. I won’t lie, it impressed me-- it might’ve even made me swoon. 

“You’ll be fine carrying everything?” I asked.

Alistair stuck up a thumb. “I’ll have to be the representative pack mule for our little party, it seems.”

I placed an affirming hand on his large bicep, resisting the urge to squeeze. “You know you’re worth more than that.”

“Will that be all?” Danal inquired.

“Nope,” Alistair answered. “Thank you for everything.” 

Danal nodded. “Pleasure doing business with you. Good luck on your travels.”

I called out to Leliana, a surprised look on her face as I unintentionally butted in on her chatting. Excusing herself, she bowed to them and walked back to us. “Are we ready?”

“As we’ll ever be,” I replied. “Do you have any possessions you’ll need to take with you?”

“There’s nothing I’d be worried about in my absence, I think. Well, maybe a change of clothes, perhaps?” 

“Good idea.”

After we went outside, we found Morrigan expectedly waiting for us. Leliana apologized, briefly excusing herself for a change of clothes. Behind the smoke of the refugee campfire across the commons, I could see that twilight was falling over Lothering. Soon we’d have to set up camp somewhere, preferably near a stream so we could all bathe and have fresh water. In the quietness of the evening, I found myself thinking about everything that’s occurred thus far. Overcoming my Harrowing, Jowan being a maleficar, being inducted into the Grey Wardens, seeing the Blight rise firsthand. It was all too much to think about at one time, not to mention it all happening in the span of less than a month. 

During my reflection, I felt myself drifting away from… myself. From the world. Nothing seemed to be real; the refugees, Alistair, Morrigan, or Mouse. Were they real? Was I just dreaming? Maybe I’d wake up in a second and everything would be back to the way it was-- waking up in the Senior Mage quarters, the First Enchanter coming into my room with plans of whatever was to come with my new responsibilities as a mage. I felt an oncoming panic as a voice started to call out to me, and my whole body shake.

“Samile? Samile!” The voice was… Alistair’s. Abruptly, I came back from my episode, mildly dazed. How much time passed by?

Sucking in hard, I began to breathe unsteadily. The cold freshness of Lothering’s air helped me regain myself. The entirety of the group gazed at me, waiting for my answer as I came back to reality. Alistair and Leliana looked especially worried, but Morrigan looked at me as if I she’d seen a ghost. Mouse nestled into my knee, her short ears pinned behind her head.

“S-sorry,” I managed to utter, still shaken. 

“Don’t say sorry-- what’s going on?” Alistair probed. 

“It’s nothing, I-I just… I need to relax.” I couldn’t register my voice as mine whenever I spoke. “Everything’s too much. I’m just tired, maybe.”

“It must a great range of exhaustion for you to shut down the way you did,” Morrigan said. “Fifteen minutes of absolute stillness.”

Okay, that wasn’t that bad. Not as much as the other times when I was travelling with Duncan. Sometimes they would last an hour or longer if I was left alone. But perhaps sweeping the issue under the rug wasn’t the best idea-- something was still wrong with me. I don’t know how long I’d last travelling if this problem kept persisting. 

Leliana took my right hand with both of hers, staring into my eyes. “How do I explain this… he’s not in the present. It sounds strange, but I’ve dealt with this before,” her silvery voice and Orlesian accent sounded distant, even though she was right in front of me, “Samile, can you tell me where you are? Can you say it to me?”

“Lothering,” I said back.

“Who are you? What is your name?”

“Samile.”

“What is my name?”

“Leliana.”

“Can you feel my hands around yours? How does it feel?”

I nodded. “Warm.”

The techniques gradually grounded me, but I still felt a little dazed. My breathing started to slow down as my senses began to function as they used to, a loud pulse reverberating and pounding through my skull from the anxiety. Leliana rubbed the back of my hand, her pale fingers making circles in my skin.

“I’m glad to see you can recover quickly. Others aren’t usually so lucky.”

“It used to be worse. Much worse.” I could register my voice as mine again. I never thought I’d cherish hearing my wobbling tone as much as I did in the moment.

“I’m sorry to hear that… if it starts again, come to me. Sometimes it helps if you’re able to step away, even for just a moment.” 

Alistair seemed hesitant to speak, sucking in his lips and biting them. He’d occasionally looked off as if he wanted to start sprinting away without notice. I guess he didn’t know how to feel. Morrigan was calm as ever, but I could tell she was concerned from her constant stare. This was the first time either of them had seen it. I’m just thankful they weren’t around for the worst of it. 

“Thank you, Leliana.” 

“Of course. Now, should we explain?”

“Uh… sure,” Alistair spoke faintly. “The revered mother of Lothering asked us to take a prisoner into our party while Leliana was away. Apparently, she can barely stand the sight of him.”

“...Okay.” It wasn’t the oddest thing I’ve ever heard, at this point. Mind you, three quarters of our group consisted of a witch, a dog, and a lay sister of the Chantry. Any other addition would just add to our collection of weird titles. “And where would this prisoner be?”

“Outside of the village to the east. It’ll be hard to miss him, she says.”

Finally leaving the front of the inn, we passed through the eastern fences leading to the outside of Lothering, stopping once we saw a prisoner’s gate to our left. Inside, a hornless Qunari stood to his feet. I could tell of his descent by his metallic-gray skin and white hair divided into rows of tight braids close to the scalp. Unusually, he wore commoner’s clothing. But the question was, what was a Qunari doing all the way in Ferelden of all places? They’re usually never seen outside their lands, with the exception of the odd appearances in Rivain, if I remember correctly. 

“Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun,” he repeated to himself in what I assume was the Qunlat, the unofficial qunari language. 

As we stood in front of the gate, he rigidly watched our movements, barely shifting his body or angling his head to see us. “You aren’t one of my captors,” he dully said to me. “I will not amuse you any more than I have the other humans. Leave me in peace.”

“The revered mother said slaughtered an entire family,” Leliana whispered. “Even the children.”

“It is as she says.” His voice easily drowned out Leliana’s whispering. “I am Sten of the Beresaad-- the vanguard-- of the qunari peoples.”

“This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. I suggest releasing him for mercy’s sake alone,” Morrigan commented. The idea was a little brutalizing, but I could see what she was saying; she spoke of freedom.

“Mercy? I wouldn’t have expected that from you,” Alistair added, to Morrigan’s chagrin.

“I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage.” 

“Yes, that’s what I would have expected.”

Sten neglected to react to their chatter. “I suggest you leave me to my fate.”

Leliana stepped up. “The revered mother wished to release you into our custody, actually.”

Sten looked down at her, finally revealing a surprised expression. “I confess, I did not think the priestess would part with it. On what basis did she release me?”

“Stopping the Blight.” Leliana placed both of her hands on mine and Alistair’s shoulders. “These two are both Grey Wardens that need your help.”

Sten shifted his eyes between Alistair and I, then back to Leliana. “The Blight? My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens’ strength and skill… though I suppose not every legend is true… so be it. Set me free, and I will follow you against the Blight.”

Leliana cocked her head to the right with a satisfied chirp, sticking a key into the gate’s latch and twisting it clockwise. As Sten placed a hand on the gate’s door to open it, Leliana stood back. Sten pushed through once she closed the distance between the gate and herself. “And so it is done. I will follow you into battle. In doing so I shall find my atonement.” 

“Really? Just like that?” Alistair questioned Sten.

“Yes. May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere.”


	19. Veering Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finish getting what you need in Lothering, exiting onto the Imperial Highway yet again. Unfortunately, you happen to find a darkspawn ambush upon it and save two dwarves, Alistair being moderately injured as a result of his impulsivity. Morrigan decides to set up camp after the fact.

Our growing party of six crossed Lothering’s plains, soon finding another entrance to the Imperial Highway. Staring out at the distance of the plains, it seemed that the highway was our best bet to reach Redcliffe as quickly as possible. Five days. The idea exhausted me even though we were barely on the highway. _Bigger picture._

A precursor to a darkspawn ambush, familiar chills ran through my spine before I could hear indistinct, whispering voices on the highway ahead. Already planning to alert the party, I spun around as Alistair rushed off without us.  

“Darkspawn-- if they pass us, the entire village is done for!” Alistair shouted to us.

Without a word from any of us, we followed him up the stairs. As we came up, we found two dwarves cowered next to a handheld wain, too close to the darkspawn threat. A smaller brute bolted at them with two black axes, Alistair fortifying himself with his shield and charging into it. Two arrows that were meant for dwarves countered his charge, both of them piercing just above his right breast. He yelped, scrunching his face in pain and covering himself again. Mouse sprinted ahead with her bared teeth, lunging at the tainted bowmen.

Having no weapon on hand, Sten took the opportunity to steal both axes from the smaller brute, immediately hacking into it. Leliana had ducked behind the wain, equipping herself with a short bow and firing a volley of arrows at the hurlock rushing towards Sten. Sten rose up, spinning the hurlock with two heavy swings and placing it in a headlock, presumably to use it as a sacrificial shield. 

Alistair backed away, bracing himself for an attack by an armored hurlock. The creature didn’t seem to be an emissary, carrying two golden, curved blades instead of a staff or great sword.

Drawing my own staff, I drew it towards the armored hurlock, blasting it away with a stream of telekinetic force and probably saving Alistair from near death. Morrigan spent time preparing a spell, charging it betwixt her palms. She rushed to clutch the head of Sten’s darkspawn shield, making it wail in pain as an audible sizzle sounded from its’ scalp. After she shoved the minor hurlock back into the small horde, it detonated.

Alistair made a wall around himself and I from the blood rain. After the sprinkling audibly stopped, I gazed out from his artificial wall. A steaming hurlock corpse rested between the bodies of other darkspawn that suffered the impact. Entropy? The occasional shapeshifting and the miasmatic cloud were unprecedented, especially as Morrigan could manipulate it directly-- something only masterful mages can do. What else did she know?

Morrigan turned around to the dwarves, casually wiping the bloody mess away from her skin. Sten was a gruesome view, completely content to stand in the carnage without a worry. I assumed it was in part because he’d been through skirmishes exactly like this, except probably not with the darkspawn as his opponents. 

“Keep the arrows in. It won’t do as much harm, not more than you pulling them out,” Sten dully advised Alistair, to which he replied with a pained nod. Sten picked up a fallen arrow, particularly paying attention to its’ head.

“Was almost going to. You know, while the adrenaline’s still... uh… going,” Alistair grunted, applying pressure to spot near the arrows. Sten walked over to him, lightly twirling one of the shafts while it was still lodged. Alistair winced, his eyes starting to visibly water. “Why would you do that?!” 

“Be glad they’re not lodged in your bone or that they struck deeper.”

Not wanting to gawk at Alistair’s wounds any longer, I focused my sight on the dwarves. The older dwarf was speechless, and the latter was unusually deadpan, a faraway look in his eye. The former dwarf recomposed himself with a few pounds on his chest.

“Mighty timely arrival there, friends. I’m much obliged,” he remarked. “The name’s Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This here is my son, Sandal. Say hello, my boy.”

“Hello,” Sandal dully greeted. 

Bodahn chuckled. “Road’s been mighty dangerous these days. Mind if I ask what brings you all out here? Perhaps we’re going the same way.”

“We… could ask you the same. I’d doubt you’d want to travel any place where Grey Wardens have stepped, though,” I cautioned Bodahn. “You seem to be fine enough to keep moving.”

“Oh, of course-- a merchant’s job is never done when there’s still much coin to be collected in a day-- but, Grey Wardens, hmm? My, that does rather explain a bit. I suspect there’s more excitement on your path than my boy and I can handle. Allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune, though.” 

“Goodbye,” Sandal added.

Bodahn turned to his wain. “Now, then. Let’s get this mess cleaned up, shall we?”

Not knowing how to feel about the quick conversation, I turned to Alistair as he still winced. He stared at the lodged shafts, no longer applying pressure. 

“I know of a stream before Lake Luthias where we can bathe and repose… as well as dislodge Alistair’s misfortunes,” Morrigan announced, turning to walk along the highway. Sten dropped his stolen axe, stepping over darkspawn remains. Leliana blocked her nose with the back of her hand as she followed. “It will be a few hours before we reach it.”

Alistair steeled himself before turning in the direction of the party. He growled to himself as he disarmed his weapons and hurled the sack over his shoulder again. My stomach turned from the sight as I walked beside him. 

“I _can_ help with you that...” I pressured him. 

“No, no, you just be our life-sized first aid kit,” Alistair joked to me, weakly smiling. 

I frowned at him. “Please. We’ll still have to clean the wounds so they won’t get infected… my magic can’t cure everything, I’m afraid. We also have to make sure you don’t bleed out.”

Alistair’s smile turned into a frown. “Can’t you make a joke at my dispense just once? Just one time?”

“Alistair, this is serious! I don’t want you to die when we still have such a long way to go. Don’t be so stubborn.”

He smirked. “You don’t want me to do die, do you?”

“No. I don’t.” I refused to play his game, tempting to speak with the utmost gravity. 

Alistair sniggered, clutching his broad chest and wincing straight after. “You’re so adorable when you’re mad.”

I couldn’t stay mad at him-- I knew what he was doing. He was making everything a joke so I wouldn’t take his pain so seriously. He did it back at Flemeth’s hut, and he was still doing it now. Shaking my head, I shifted my view back to the highway. Leliana had looked back, taking a mild interest in our conversation. She swiftly turned her head once she noticed my gaze. 

We reached the end of Lothering’s highway in a matter of hours, departing from it when Morrigan was sure of the stream’s location. It was now dusk, the sky starting to arrange itself in all shades of pastel pinks and purples among the clouds. The phenomenon was breathtaking. There were barely any windows in the Circle Tower to see out of, lest our desire for escaping its’ isolation worsen through viewing the spectacles. It never occurred to me how much I was sheltered until now. I could hear the sound of flowing water as we delved deeper into the temperate forest, soon being able to spot a small channel that obviously lead to a much larger one. Morrigan had the same idea, directing us along it. Soon enough, we found the larger stream flowing west to Lake Luthias. There was an ample amount of land across the stream’s bank, so we decided to camp there for now. 

Alistair set the sack of supplies on the earth floor, groaning. “Now we can get these things out of my damned body.”

“Everyone else can do what they need to, I’ll be in charge of orchestrating the camp!” Leliana announced, her voice being slightly obstructed by the sound of the rushing water beyond. Sten ignored her demand, rummaging through the sack’s contents. After a few seconds, he pulled out the first aid kit, a bag of what must’ve been soap, and the needles, passing them along to me.

“Pull out the arrows with extreme care,” Sten said, looking at me with his hardened, violet eyes. 

“Alright,” I responded, almost stuttering.

Leliana kneeled in front of the sack, taking out various items. “You’re not going with them, Sten?”

“I will leave after they return. For now, I would like to sort my own things,” Sten explained.

Leliana thinly smiled. “Alright then… I suppose it’ll be nice to have someone here with me while everyone else is gone.” 

“Sure.”

Morrigan waved a finger at Alistair and I as we stood together, signalling us to walk over. With the same hand, she held it out to the soap bag in my hand that looked identical to sack, except much smaller.

“Oh. Here.” Pulling out a clear, amber rectangle from the bag, I dropped it into her hand. After, Alistair took the bag from me and started to inhale deeply.

“Sweet maker... anything smells good after smelling the constant stench of ours,” Alistair mumbled as he dug his face into it.

“‘Tis true.” Morrigan observed the darkspawn filth that coated her body, shuddering and proceeding to look upwards. “Anyway, there should be separate banks along the stream. I suggest we find three separate channels and bathe there after we pluck out Alistair’s pair of arrows.”

“Just do it now. I can take it,” Alistair expressed, grimacing. 

“What? No, let’s get to the stream first,” I urged him. “Sten said to use extreme care.”

“Perhaps it would be quicker,” Morrigan countered with a wry smile. “I would be enthralled to even extract both of them. With the utmost care, of course.”

Alistair squinted at her. “I was talking to Samile…”

Morrigan’s smile spread further as she disappeared back into the forest. “Do not say I never offered to help.” 

Mouse was already bathing in the larger stream, foolishly bounding and leaping through the force of it. She paused when she reached a particular point of the stream, snapping at in all directions. At least she was catching dinner for us. We left the three to take care of the campsite as we followed Morrigan back into the forest. 

Morrigan drew her staff as we walked, tracing into nearby tree trunks with its’ tip and carving dashes of violet light into their surfaces. 

“Landmarks back to the camp,” she nonchalantly informed. “It would be particularly vexing to get lost and ambushed by darkspawn...”

I tilted my head at the traces of light. “Agreed… how do you do that?”

“Do what?” The lights reflected off of her jet black hair and accentuated the sharpness of her amber eyes, almost turning them golden as she looked back at me.

“Command magic the way you do? How you can control it so... freely?”

Morrigan contemplated my questions, casting her eyes down to the forest floor with a smile. “...Answering your question seemingly provokes another. Let me ask you, is it necessary to be taught about how you apply a brush-stroke to a canvas?”

“...No, not at all.”

“Precisely. Magic is an art. Your skill in the art is relative to how you are taught to utilize it-- or how you teach yourself to utilize it, for that matter. I choose to apply my strokes with the idea of absolute nonalignment. There is your answer.” 

“Hmm…” I pondered on her explanation. The answer was so simple, yet revealed so much of her power-- in the Wilds, Morrigan didn’t have an enchanter guiding her every move, teaching her to wield magic in fixed and systematic forms. With her own wits, living in raw nature, and the teachings of a witch of legend, she was raised to wield magic with total freedom. But with freedom comes a responsibility that you’re in charge of maintaining on your own. “How are you not… afraid? Magic is so unyielding and fickle at times.”

Morrigan look discontented. “What should I be afraid of? I was born with magic as my only friend, as were you. Your being viewed as a potential abomination by your Chantry blinds you from owning your power and pits it against you from birth. ‘Tis truly an unfortunate way to live.”

Her revelation knocked the air out of my stomach. It only shook me so much because everything she said was true. I was constantly aware of that fact that I was taught to view my magic as something that should be repressed and controlled… it was taken from me as soon as I entered the Circle Tower.

“That’s for sure,” Alistair spoke. “When I was going through my templar training, the way the older templars spoke about mages was… repulsive. Cruel. It’s like they saw them as caged animals they needed to put down. I hate even mentioning that I was training alongside them...”

“And what of you? How do you view them?” Morrigan interrogated him. 

“People deserving of respect. The mere idea of striking an apprentice down for something they didn’t ask for...” Alistair looked at me, sensing my unease. “I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”

I shook my head. “No. You’re right. It is repulsive.”

The rest of the small journey was filled with quiet, the silence only being broken through Morrigan’s trunk scraping and the crunching of leaves under our boots. The sound of flowing water replaced the forest’s ambiance as Morrigan lead us into another bank that she deemed suitable. 

“A decent spot. You both can run along now, I will not have either of you ogling my bare body,” Morrigan dismissed. 

“We wouldn’t want to. Trust us,” Alistair quipped, making Morrigan gasp. I think it was the first time I’ve heard her lose her cool.

“Leave, before I can pull those arrows out as hard as I can,” she threatened him.

Alistair mockingly recited her words, forcing me to pull him away further into the bank before Morrigan could actually fulfill her threat. We stopped once I saw a sizeable boulder jutting out from the river’s floor. I didn’t want to be completely isolated from the wounded man, especially if something were to happen to him if I went to another bank.

“Uh… sit down here,” I told him, setting the first aid kit and soap down beside the boulder, keeping the needles for myself. Alistair followed suit, laying himself beside the boulder and cringing. I bent down in front of him, staring at the feathered ends of the protruding arrows. It was hard to believe he hadn’t passed out by now, especially from carrying the sack while he was still in pain. “Let me think…”

“...There’s only one thing you can do, Samile. It just depends on how hard you pull them that makes the difference,” Alistair said, his face sunken.

I tilted my head briefly. “You’re right. Okay, I can do this…”

“You say that like you’re one with arrows in your chest.”

“Oh-- sorry. First time for everything, I guess.” With a careful hand, I grabbed one of the shafts. Alistair stuck a hand up, signaling for me to stop.

“Now wait, just wait… let me count down first.”

“Alright.”

“One… two... “ He took a deep breath. “Pull!”

Putting a hand on his chest for support, I tried not to tug out. Alistair had his eyes completely shut, gritting his teeth as I pulled. Once the arrow was out, he released his breath into a quiet howl. 

“Maker! I’ve never hated being a Grey Warden until fucking now,” he cursed. I hissed as I stared at the arrow’s point and his gaping hole of a wound. “Okay, okay, just do the second one so we can get this over with!”

I nodded, immediately drawing out the second shaft. Alistair didn’t even hesitate to howl at the top of his lungs-- I felt terrible, closing my eyes while I pulled. Once I felt no resistance on the arrow’s point, I let go, hearing the wooden arrow plop onto the bank. I opened my eyes as Alistair whined, recoiling into the side of the boulder and his head bent backwards. I could see blood start to ooze from both wounds, staining his brigandine under the metal plating of his armor. 

“Help me get this off, will you?” Alistair looked down at his armor, then nodded to his right side. “There’s belts on the sides that keep it bound. Two on each.”

As he said, there were two belts on each side of the plate. I quickly unfastened the two pairs’ buckles, beginning to lift off the gray iron. Alistair helped, pulling up them up from underneath. We both set it down beside him, now focusing on just the brigandine and tabard. Alistair stood, me backing away. He managed to undress himself, clutching the popped collar of the brigandine as well as his undershirt beneath, and lifting them off with a low, pained moan. He dropped them on top of his metal armor, the upper half of his body being completely visible. Blood started to leak down his thick chest, coating his mild, dark chest hair. I mentally reprimanded myself for staring, focusing my attention back on the wounds. 

Alistair landed back on the ground, cupping his chest and roughly breathing. I knelt beside him again, searching through the first aid kit. It didn’t take me long to find a spare rag and antiseptic wash. I could easily identify which item was which because of the various accidents I’ve healed and gained through my days as an apprentice.

“Okay… this while sting,” I warned him, lightly pouring the wash on the rag. 

“It’ll probably hurt less than what just happened,” Alistair gasped, his chest rising and falling through his rough breathing. 

I dotted the partly soaked rag across both wounds, making him jolt occasionally. “Sorry…”

“No… it’s fine… thank you.” 

Once the wounds were mostly clean, I made sure to wipe away the excess blood. Looking back to the kit, I grabbed antibiotic ointment, tape, and gauze. Stretching the gauze to a few feet, I snagged through it with my teeth when it reached a good length, and with the rag still in my hands, I opened the container of ointment and pressed into it with the other side that wasn’t soaked. 

“This actually might feel good…” I dotted the ointment-covered piece of the rag on Alistair’s wounds. 

He grinned. “Hooo… quite a chill, I must say.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling back. “Come off the boulder a bit, if you can. I need to wrap the gauze around your shoulder.”

Alistair leaned off the boulder, letting me wrap the gauze over his shoulder and pass under his armpit. He lifted a hairy arm to help, almost hitting my face. “Sorry.” 

“Just relax, big man.”

“Gotcha.”

“Actually, hold this.” 

“Gotcha twice.”

I directed one of his large hands to hold the gauze in place while I reached back to the tape, extending it and ripping off a few inches. I placed the tape sideways across the gauze, smoothing out the ends across his skin. Taking mine and Alistair’s hands back, I checked to see if the tape would hold. Thankfully, it did. I could just reapply more if it fell anyway. I leaned back on the shore, both of us taking a deep breath as I finished. “Okay… now we can bathe.”

Alistair stared at the gauze, reaching over to touch it. I swiftly smacked his hand away. “Ow! It’s compulsive! Why do you wish to bring me more pain?”

I ignored his joking, staring at him as intensely as I could. “Do _not_ let those wounds get infected, or you _will_ die.”

He frowned, taking my words more seriously than I thought he would. “Alright.”

I sighed, looking down to the floor. I noticed the jingling of the needles in my pocket and the soap bag resting on the side of the boulder. We still needed to wash up, and I still needed to heal my own injuries. The blisters were a lesser threat, although they could still get infected. “Will you need any help bathing?”

Alistair continued to sit, looking up at me. “No, no, you don’t need to coddle me anymore… what I did at the highway-- it was stupid. I never should have rushed ahead without you all. I’m sorry.”

“You realize those arrows were meant for that merchant and his son, right? You literally saved their lives in a fraction of a second. That’s not stupid to me. Sure, it may have been impulsive, but your intentions outweighed the impact of that situation. Give yourself more credit, Alistair… you impact more people than you realize you do.”

Alistair stared at me, unable to form a sentence. “You really are too kind, you know.”

I smiled at him, kneeling to reassemble the medical provisions back into the first aid kit. Grabbing the kit and the soap bag, I pulled out a clear, crimson rectangle of soap from the latter. I peeped at the soap bar, marveling at its’ deep red color. I could see Alistair smiling at me from my peripheral vision, my eyes starting to focus back on him. 

“What?” I smiled back.

Alistair only shook his head, neglecting to say anything else but still smiling. After standing up, I went to the other side of the boulder. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Alistair called to me. 

“We still need to bathe! And I still have my burns to take care of…” I ripped both of my gloves off, tossing them aside. The translucent, orange blisters had shrunken much more than when we were on the dirt roads. I guess I didn’t need the needles anymore; I had bought them because I assumed they would spread.

“Oh. Okay then.”

I sat crisscross, tucking the needles into the kit. We could need them one day-- plus, I hated to waste anything. Looking at the rag, I realized I couldn’t use it anymore. At least not the half where Alistair’s blood was soaked into it. Ugh. 


	20. Halcyon Riverside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After bathing, you and Alistair return to the camp-- Morrigan having business elsewhere. In the night, you and Leliana talk about her vision, and you remark upon how you must enjoy the good times while they lasted.

Finishing my puzzled stump resulting from the lack of our cleaning supplies, I ended up washing the rag in the channel. The fabric was faintly stained, a pale pink absorbed into half of its’ fabric, but still clean enough to use. With that, I easily applied the antiseptic and the ointment, laboriously wrapping my hands with small sections of gauze and setting tape onto wherever it ended. Now… how was I going to bathe? Another predicament. 

My left hand was covered in much less gauze, but it wasn’t my dominant one. I guess it would have to suffice-- I intended to bathe regardless. I’d just have to keep it as dry as possible. I began to completely undress; untying, tugging off, and unlatching all of my attire. The summer’s breeze ran across my naked body, making me shiver. With the rectangular bar in my left hand, I slowly stepped into the channel and tested its’ coolness. After evaluating the coolness, I decided to take the dive and plunge my lower half into the water. Oh, how I regretted the idea.

I submerged the bar into the water, bringing it back up to my skin and rubbing it in. The bar gave off a sweet, flowery scent as it wore away: roses. I started with my arms, then travelling down to my legs and feet. I thanked the river’s buoyancy, as I could freely rise my legs up from the water and rub them down. Then, I went for my chest, a pool of pink bubbles building up in the water below me from the excess lathering. Now for my hair. I took a deep breath before I sunk beneath the water, still keeping my arms upright. I ascended straight after, releasing my breath and lathering my hair with the bar. I occasionally flipped my hair to the side so I could scrunch it all with one hand, with how long it was. Pausing, I stretched a wet strand, seeing that it could reach the base of my neck. It kind of excited me, to be honest… maybe I’d let it grow out. 

Finishing up with rest of my body, I started to trudge out from the channel. I cursed as I realized we had no towels to dry with. Whatever. I shook from side to side, attempting to air dry as best as I could. I groaned as I realize the excess water absorbed into my underclothes. Guess I didn’t have to worry about not drying off anymore. Dressing back into the semi-wet clothing, I opted to carry my Warden outfit. I didn’t think the darkspawn would show any time soon-- not near the river, anyway. 

Alistair came onto my side of the boulder as he’d just finished, carrying his armor and adjusting his pants with his free hand. He had the same idea as me, being in slightly wet underclothes. “We probably should’ve asked for towels back in Lothering, huh?” 

I tossed my hair with my own free hand. “Yes, we absolutely should’ve. Along with more spare rags.”

Alistair chuckled as drops of water fell from his wet hair. He stared at me for a moment, me doing the same out of obligation. “We… should, uh, go.”

“...Right.” I bent down to retrieve the kit as well as the soap bag, looking up at Alistair while I did so. “Are you okay? Besides the wounds...”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just that your scent reminds me of... something. Sorry for staring at you like that.” 

I lightly chuckled, wondering why he was acting so strangely. It made me think back to my one encounter with that young templar, Cullen. However, they were complete opposites. One of them could form a proper conversation with me, and one of them could barely say a word to me without stuttering. “It’s fine. Let’s get back to Morrigan.” 

Alistair looked at my gauze-wrapped hands. “Right… remind me to tell you that I need to speak with you back in the camp.”   


A lump started to develop in my throat. “About?”

“You and everything else.” 

Coming back onto Morrigan’s side of the channel, we found nothing except lights carved into the bank’s sand.  _ I will meet you back in camp,  _ the lights said.  _ Follow the lights in the woods for your way back.  _ A loud caw resonated through the sky as a raven circled through the air above us, departing west soon after. I had the strongest feeling that we had just seen another instance of her shapeshifting spells.

“Hmm. A raven,” Alistair stated. “They’re usually in the more coastal regions of Ferelden, I think.”

“Interesting.” Well, Alistair indirectly confirmed what I already knew. Now I only wondered where she was soaring off to. Perhaps she wanted to be alone, perhaps she just wanted to explore what this particular region of Ferelden had to offer-- I would never know until I asked her. Moving on, we left the stream.

We both decided to rush the hike back to camp when Alistair discerned that Leliana and Sten were presumably finished making it, possibly creating a fire as well. We could warm ourselves up and then decide on what we wanted to make for supper, if neither of them cooked it up already. My stomach bellowed, to my embarrassment, and Alistair made it a point to laugh every single time it did so. I would’ve hurt him if he wasn’t already in pain. By the time we arrived, stars began to lightly speckle through the blackened sky, indicating that twilight had passed and nighttime was now upon us. 

“Welcome back,” Leliana warmly greeted as she sat next to a fire centered in the middle in the site, stirring something, a stew perhaps, in the cast pot we purchased earlier. Sten was off to the right side of the bank, staring into the stream. Mouse trotted up to me and Alistair, glad to see us back. “Where’s the woman you were with?”   


“Morrigan? We have no clue,” I replied, scratching Mouse’s almost-silky cheeks. Her tongue slid out the side of her mouth as she panted. “She said she’d be back soon. We just don’t know how soon that will be.”

“Mmm, well, I hope she gets back before the stew is gone. Danal is such a good man, giving us all those herbs and spices to cook with.”

Alistair inhaled the air. “That smells wonderful… when’s it gonna be ready?”

Leliana beamed, taking Alistair’s words as compliment. “Maybe another hour or so. It  _ is  _ a stew.”

We both groaned, making Leliana giggle. Three tents were sectioned near the fire, the first facing west, the second facing south to the forest, and the last facing to the east. A single bedroll was laid out closely to the fire, facing north to stream. It must’ve been Sten’s. I felt bad knowing he was to sleep without a tent. Maybe I could offer him a space in ours if neither Morrigan or Leliana had room?

“Is that bedroll Sten’s?” I asked Leliana.

“Oh, of course not. That’s for your mabari. I forced Sten to sleep with me-- it would be rude if none of us offered,” Leliana explained. Nevermind then. “Choose any tent except the one facing right, by the way.” 

“Which one do you want?” Alistair asked me.

“I’m not picky,” I responded. “Maybe the one on the left?” 

“Sure. Let’s put down our armor so we can warm up.” Alistair walked to the western tent, opening the flap of it and placing his armor inside. I did the same, setting my outfit and first aid kit instead. Inside, a heavy, cream-colored fleece blanket was laid across two bedrolls with an interior of fur. The exterior wasn’t too visible, but I could assume it was leather. “You know, I half expected to open up the tent and find all my statuettes and stones. And my expensive cheese wheel.” 

Alistair frowned as he stared inside. I patted his shoulder with my gauzed hand, feeling the heat of his body through the wetness of his shirt. It was a strange sensation. “Maybe we can get you more when we arrive in Redcliffe?”   


“There’ll hardly be time to splurge when we get there.” Alistair let go of the flap, blocking our inner view of the tent. 

“I know. Just trying to cheer you up.” 

“You know I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll feel better when we… you know, talk.”

“I hope so.” 

Funny, I’d almost forgotten he’d told me to remind him. My stomach was pitted-- I had an idea of what he wanted to  _ talk _ about, that being not telling him about my burns and having one of my episodes in Lothering. He probably had things he wanted to get off his chest too. I felt the same way as I did when Duncan scolded me on Ostagar’s bridge. To be honest, I missed it as much as I missed him. And I missed him a lot. There were a lot of people I missed, no matter how much I neglected to admit it. “I’ll be back, I need to give the soap bag to Sten.”

“Alright then.” Alistair watched me walk off as he sat on Mouse’s untouched bedroll. Leliana nodded as she lifted a metal spoon of thick, light brown stock to her lips, cooling the liquid with her breath.

Sten waited east of the bank, exactly in the spot where we first saw him. His hands were locked behind him as he stood, like a soldier. His braided, white ponytail swung in the summer breeze.  As I got closer to him, I could see that he easily dwarfed me, standing over six feet.

“I assume you are finished?” Sten said without looking at me. 

“Yes, we are. Sorry for the wait,” I replied, handing him the soap bag.

Sten took the bag from my grip, gazing at Alistair from afar. “You are not quite as callow as I thought. That is… unexpected.”

“Callow? Well, thanks for changing your mind, I guess.” The comment was so abrupt and backhanded that I was shaken by it, at first.

“You sound surprised. You must have heard this before. You’ll get over it. Eventually.” Sten wandered off into the forest back through the campsite, me awkwardly following him and sitting next to Alistair by the fire.

“What happened? I saw his staring but I didn’t want to look back straight at him,” Alistair murmured.

“Nothing important.” I hugged myself to build up more heat. “He complimented me, I think…”

“You think?” Alistair rubbed his hands, occasionally cupping them and blowing short, hot breaths. “It’s strange. Him and Morrigan are like two sides of the same coin. So mysterious.”

“I can see that. Their words almost bite the same way too.”

Leliana turned her cheek to Alistair and I. “Who are you both talking about?”

Alistair nodded to the forest. “Sten and Morrigan.” 

The lay sister stood from her position near the cast pot and walked to the tent on the right. “Ooh… you can tell they’re both not as stoic as they look. Not once you get to know them. All that hardness will just wear away, eventually.”

Alistair shrugged, looking back into the fire and crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “Sure, maybe Sten. I don’t know about Morrigan, though.”

“You only say that because you despise her with your entire being,” I attempted to tease him, Alistair only replying with an extended shrug. “I think you have a point though, Leliana. You could have considered me an elusive or cold person if you knew me a month ago.”

“Really? I wouldn’t even think it.” Leliana voice was muffled as she searched through something in her tent. Not a moment later, she came back with a hair tie that she flexed around her fingers. She sat behind me, gathering my wet hair and loosely securing it with the tie. A few stray coils hung around my face, and a large chunk of it at the back of my neck, but I was pleased to not have the majority of it drape around my eyes. “This should help. Your hair is stunning... do you know how to braid?”

I ran my fingers across my new loose ponytail, wondering why I’ve never made one before. “No, I’ve never learned. It wasn’t proper to flaunt anything in the Circle Tower.”

Leliana almost choked. “Caring about your cleanliness and maintaining it should never be about  _ flaunting _ . And braids are hardly anything to flaunt, especially in Orlais. Some of the styles even involved flowers, ribbons, jewels… one year, feathers were all the rage, and a popular noblewoman decided she needed to outdo everyone else, and actually wore live songbirds in her voluminous hair. The chirping was quite charming for a while, but you must realize, terrified little birdies often have loose bowels…” Alistair and I both scrunched up our noses as we looked at one another in reaction to the story, the three of us eventually cracking into chuckles. “Yes... you can imagine what she looked like by the end of the evening. Speaking of the end of the evening, we should bed soon after we finish eating.”

“Sleep…” Alistair moaned, yawning straight after. “Can’t wait to get some of that.”

“Tell me about it,” I moaned back.

Afterwards, Alistair ultimately decided to take a doze and urged us to wake him when the stew was ready. Leliana and I continued to chat around the fire about miscellaneous topics, such as her bard travels around the world and her being a lay sister of the Chantry. Every time Leliana spoke, I was completely immersed in her words. She relayed her stories with such a lovely and weightless air, as if her voice was a cloud. It was nice to just forget about the Blight and the unseen darkspawn looming around us, even for a little bit. I’d have to cherish these moments before darker times came upon us, which I felt were right around the corner. 

“So, Leliana, this visions of yours…” I meandered. 

Leliana’s smile started to fade as she stared back into fire. “I knew this would this come up sooner or later,” she sighed, “I don’t know to explain, but I had a dream… in it there was an impenetrable darkness… it was so dense, so real. And there was a nose-- a terrible, ungodly noise…” 

I watched her take a moment to think, her hands laid on her chest and eyes shut. Not being sure if it was appropriate to comfort her, I sat back and waited for her to speak again.

“...I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything… and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun’s light, I… I fell, and the darkness drew me in…” Leliana released herself from the re-immersion of the vision, eyes finally open and hands rested on her lap as she sat. 

“So you had a dream of the Blight overtaking Ferelden? Or the world?” I surmised. 

“I suppose I did. That was the darkness was, no?” Leliana shook herself. “When I woke, I went to the chantry’s gardens, as I always did. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered… everyone  _ knew _ that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled-- the ugliest thing you ever saw, but there it was-- a single, beautiful white rose. It was as though the Maker stretched out His hand to say: ‘Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith.’”

I couldn’t suspend my disbelief. In this world of magic, darkspawn, and all sorts of myths and fables… how could I not believe her? I’ve only ever known the Chantry as a theocratic tyranny since I was old enough to think beyond what my peers relayed to me, but I couldn’t criticize the faith. It gave hope to those who didn’t have anything left to hope for. It gave people the strength to keep fighting-- all in an effort to see the happier days that they believed the Maker would bless them with, at least eventually. I just wasn’t sure where my place was in all of it. 

“I believe you. I don’t think the Maker would abandon us either. At least not the one you know,” I confessed.

Leliana smiled at me. “You know… in my dream, I fell, or… or maybe I jumped… I’d do anything to stop the Blight. I know that we can do it. There are so many good things in the Maker’s world. How can I sit by while the Blight devours… everything?”

“I felt the same way before I even became a Warden. With all the power I had at my fingertips as a mage, I knew I couldn’t sit back and do nothing while everyone else suffered.”

“That is why you are meant to be one.” Maybe it wasn’t that I felt out of place in the order, but that I just needed to find the right motivation to align myself with it. Leliana’s comment would stick with me regardless. 


	21. -10 Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Alistair haphazardly decide to have your long-awaited "talk", however detrimental it is to either of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is HEAVY with dialogue, and this is like... the worst instance of corny fluff and angst I've had in the story up to this point. I actually had to rewrite this chapter a couple of times-- I kept in mind that I wanted it to be a shifting point in Samile and Alistair's relationship, but I was unsure of how to exactly do that. I think I'm pleased with the result. If I went the other route, it'd be just unrealistic for Samile's character. I tried to replicate the fact that a lot of mentally ill or self-critical folks tend to self-sabotage good things for themselves. Samile is in that exact situation, clearly having both of those qualities, and I wanted to reflect that. I live with those qualities on a daily basis in my regular life, so I could easily apply my experiences to his character. I hope I did good on that.

Everyone returned back to the camp shortly after Leliana and I wrapped up our discussion of the divine, right around the time the stew was prepared to eat. After barely waking Alistair--who was quite a heavy sleeper, by the way-- we all sat in a close circle around the fire as we ate our bowls, almost burning my tongue as I took my first spoonful. Mouse constantly whined out of aggravation as her own bowl didn’t seem to cool down any faster. The savory beef and similarly-tasting assorted vegetables seemingly dissolved as it sat in my mouth, a result of the prolonged roasting. 

The few stars that dotted the sky earlier disappeared into the new abundance of them, as well as the moon-- which was phased into a “waxing gibbous,” as Morrigan denoted. She also informed us that a full moon would take its’ place soon, explaining her knowledge of the fact as her way of telling time. It wasn’t hard for me to believe that the Korcari Wilds had any spare or working clocks present. 

Besides all that, it was the first time I felt  _ present  _ in the journey. Most of the time, we were reacting to whatever bad news or misfortune the Blight threw our way. In the camp, I actually had time to reflect, think, or be joyous. I could’ve avoided having my experience back in Lothering if I had just waited until this exact moment… I guess it was a relatively bad idea to not speak about it to anyone else in the party. Isn’t that what friends were for?

I offered to help Leliana clean the utensils and appliances after we finished eating, to which she replied with a sigh of relief and immediate acceptance. As we were done washing, I noticed Alistair departed back into our tent. I suppose it’d be a good time to talk…

“I think he wants to talk to you…” Leliana said as I stared back at the western tent. “He was staring at you while we ate. Are you both…? Actually, nevermind, it’s none of my business.”

I reeled my head back at her. “We’re just good friends… and yes, we did agree to talk earlier. Nice observation.”

“Oh, don’t be so defensive, Samile. I see the way you look at him whenever he smiles… let’s just say that I would not be surprised if something blossomed between you two.”

I sighed heavily, attempting to mentally block away my feelings on the matter. My stomach told another story, however. “ _ Anyway _ , I’ll be back.”

“Alrighty then!” Leliana chirped as I walked back to my shared tent. 

Standing in front of it, I braced myself for the oncoming discussion. I don’t know why I was nervous-- it wasn’t like I was being put on the spot or anything. We were just having a catch-up talk, is all. I opened the flap, seeing Alistair rest on his back with an arm laid across his eyes. Almost immediately, he looked up at me. 

“Hey,” he addressed me.

“Hey…” I said back, sitting next to him. “Why aren’t you out there with everyone else?”

Alistair rested his head back onto the furry bedroll with an arm behind him, absently staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “I just wanted to be alone for a little while.”

“Oh, well, I’ll go then…” I prepared to stand before Alistair stopped me, placing a hand on my knee.

“No, don’t. I…” He sighed, pausing. “I don’t know anymore.”

There was a long pause between both of us. I wasn’t sure if Alistair even wanted to still talk, but I had to at least give it a shot. He was doing the same as me: bottling up all his feelings until they could eventually burst. 

“Do you… do you want to talk? About Duncan?” In that moment, I felt my vial necklace slide across my chest. I forgot it was even there.

I could see Alistair’s eyes shift to mine in the near-darkness. “You don’t have to do that. I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

“I knew both of you long enough to see you cared for him.”

Alistair considered my claim for a moment, then sat up in a reclined position. “I… should have handled this better.” His voice was low as he spoke-- the word “grave” could easily describe it. “Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn’t have lose it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and… and everything,” he looked to me again, “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s just how you felt in the moment. And I don’t blame you for it, no one could tell this would ever happen.”

“Well, that too. The futility… the helplessness. All of it just pissed me off. I’d... like to have a proper funeral for him-- Duncan. Maybe once this is all done, if we’re still alive. I don’t think he had any family to speak of.”

“He had you.” 

Alistair faintly smiled at the assertion. “I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him.”

“I think he only agreed to send us up to that tower to make sure we still had a chance of staying alive. Or that’s what I’d like to believe.” 

“Maybe he did. He’d do something like that. Of course, I’d be dead if I joined him, wouldn’t I? It’s not like that would make him happier.”

Duncan… he was a man who always thought in hindsight, from what I’ve learned from just being by his side. He predicted the archdemon’s arrival, he saved me from my fate of punishment by templar hands, or my odd experiences-- he always arrived in the nick of time. Oddly enough, I could feel his presence in the air. Wherever he was, I knew he was watching over us in spirit.

Alistair had relaxed into the conversation. “I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I’ll go up there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor. I don’t know. Have you… had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry.”

“Not really. I hope not. Everything’s kind of a blur since I went to the Circle Tower.”

I wasn’t lying. The only thing I remember of my parents are their features-- my father was taller than most elves, and my mother had the most beautiful hair: black, long and wavy, almost coily like mine. I couldn’t remember where we lived… it was mostly likely one of the alienages. I only remember the Tower being my only home, however. 

“That must have felt a lot like when I got sent to the Chantry. You mages don’t get a say in the matter, after all.”

“No, we don’t. We’re usually shipped off by the age of five or six. I believe I was the former.”

Alistair shook his head at my relaying. “Terrible. Well, thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk, at least a little.”

I nodded. “Maybe I’ll go to Highever with you, if you go.” 

Alistair grinned. “I’d like that. So would Duncan, I think. But, I didn’t forget, now we have talk about you.” 

Damn it. The guilty immediately rushed in. “Well, that’s not totally necessary.”

To make matters worse, Alistair stared at the gauze still wrapped on my hands. “Oh, it definitely is! You hid those burns from me, and you also hid… whatever happened to you in Lothering. Why didn’t you trust me enough to talk to me about it?”

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you on purpose! You never asked...” 

Alistair got closer, glowering at me. “Like Morrigan said, fifteen minutes of absolute stillness. That is  _ not _ an excuse. I was… so worried about you. So, please tell me why.” 

I sighed, starting to spin the Circle-enchanted ring on right index finger as the memories from  _ that _ day flooded my mind.  _ Because I’m not a Circle thrall like you… _  “Let me start from the top, then.”

Alistair improved his posture, sitting upwards while he propped his left leg up and placed his right leg under his thigh. He rested his head on his arm while he laid it upon his propped leg. Now I had his full attention, regardless if I wanted to or not. 

“It started just before I met you, actually. I had a friend named Jowan,” his name sounded strange on my tongue, “while I was in the Tower. Long story short, he was a blood mage.”

Alistair’s brows were raised, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t know that until later, though. After I first met Duncan, he stopped me and told me of his plan to destroy his phylactery and escape. The reason why he did it was because of his relationship with an initiate…”

“Isn’t that forbidden?”

“Oh, extremely. Even mages are warned to not have flings or relationships, but that’s besides the point. I went to our First Enchanter for help-- I believed he would’ve understood. And he did. He told to me follow them and act like I was still a part of their scheme. I... only did it under his promise that Jowan and Lily, the initiate, would get a less harsher punishment. We ended up raiding the dungeon for Jowan’s phylactery, and we destroyed it.” I curled my knees against my chest tightly, letting my head rest between them. “But Jowan was acting so strangely, so… desperately. He destroyed Circle property, and it made me fear that his punishment would end up getting larger as a result. I ended up not feeling so sorry for him when he snapped at me to help him or leave.”

“But… you still helped him?”   


“I had to. They needed my help-- literally. But it all started when we  _ left _ the dungeon. Our Knight-Commander was waiting with his templars, along with the First Enchanter. When Irving… when he…” I felt a lump in my throat, and tears start to build. “When he told everyone that I was under his orders, I don’t think I ever saw Jowan so jolted. When I questioned him on why he… well, did everything he did, he made a comment that I think would stick with me forever.  _ Because I’m not a Circle thrall like you,  _ he said.” I passed the point of keeping my tears back. Every single thing I felt in that moment came back to me like it had just happened, but I was able to stay in the present. I didn’t know for how long, though. “The… the templars started to apprehend him and that’s when I saw him first cast that revolting, awful spell. I can still remember the blood dripping out of his hand where he stabbed himself. The unconscious templars and Irving… it was so terrible, Alistair. Now it’s all I see.” I covered my eyes with my fingers, with my voice turning even more wobbly than it usually was. “Ever since then… I just… get so distant. I start to detach from everything around me. I start to question everything like it doesn’t exist. I was so lucky that Duncan was with me while we travelled to Ostagar, or I would’ve been helpless…” Warm tears started to drain down my cheeks, wetly coating my fingers and palms. “I’ve never felt so weak or useless.”

I was too wrapped up in my feelings to feel awkward about being vulnerable. It was too late by then to feel that way. Suddenly, I felt Alistair’s warm, large body wrap around me. I soon hugged him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. The physical security coming from his broadness almost felt too good. He was like a gigantic weighted blanket, or anything other thing large and soft. 

“You know that’s not true, Samile. You’re one of the most strongest men I’ve ever fought with. You’ve been carrying us since the moment we left Flemeth’s hut, especially me. None of what you experienced made you weak or useless, it just… affected you. Like it would anyone else.” 

I rested my head in the crook of his neck, opening my eyes and staring upward at the tent. “That’s not true. All of you are so… experienced and you’ve all lived true lives. You’ve all built up natural defenses. I can’t do that.”

“Now  _ that _ is something that isn’t true,” Alistair released me from the hug, now cupping his hands around my cheeks, “You think about the bigger picture of everything like a senior Warden does. You make sure that everyone gets what’s theirs instead of sacrificing for the greater good. Not even a Grey Warden or a king could measure up to that. You wouldn’t know this, but… I actually look up to you, in a way. Before I try to something or think about whatever, I try to sort of picture how you would do it.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that to make me feel better...” I wiped a cheek, sniffling.

“No, really. Just… wait a second…” Alistair reached around in his back pockets for something. He ended up pulling out a creased red rose. “Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?” 

“...A rose?”

“Yes, that’s right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!” Alistair started to wave the rose in the air as if he wielded a sword. I crooked an eyebrow at him, chuckling to myself as he did so. “Or, you know, it could be a rose. I know that’s pretty dull in comparison. But anyway, I picked it in Lothering-- that’s why I said I had to get something  before we went into the tavern. I remember thinking, “How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?” He twirled the rose in his fingers, staring at the red, spinning petals. “I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn’t. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I’ve had it ever since.”

I had finished wiping away my tears, but the sniffling still lingered. “That’s a nice sentiment. But I assume you didn’t show it to me just for its’ own sake, though.”

“Aha, you see right through me! Well, I thought that I might, give it you, actually…” Alistair carefully placed the rose into my palm, “In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.”

I pinched the rose’s stem with two fingers, bringing it up to my face. A blush surely rose on my cheeks, but I depended on the darkness of the tent to keep it hidden from him. “Thank you... I’m not sure what to say.” 

Alistair grinned as he scratched the back of his neck. That must’ve been his nervous tick-- I saw him doing it back at the Tower of Ishal when I told him of my appreciation. “It’s a bit silly, isn’t it? I was just thinking… here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven’t exactly been having a good time yourself. You’ve had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It’s all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the statement. Why did he have to be so nice? “You spoil me-- thank you. I… I felt the same way about you. I still do. I thought you were the light at the end of the Blight’s long tunnel. It feels embarrassing to repeat it, but I still think it’s true.”   


“How do you think I feel? I feel like my brain’s about to implode. That idea isn’t so bad, though. Being each other’s lights, or something like that. Depend on each other more. No more secrets or hurt feelings for either of us.” 

I nodded. “That sounds good. Perfect, actually.”

Alistair nodded back, still smiling. “Now… if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Not a chance.” I didn’t hesitate to the laugh at his attempt at flirting.

His surprised expression shifted into a smirk, nervous giggling in tow. “Oh, your loss then. All the men and women talk about suave I am. I don’t know how you can resist me like you do.”

As our giggling died down, the atmosphere of the tent died down as well, a stiff quiet coming over us. Alistair took the initiative to push himself toward me, his face steadily closing into mine. His face lingered over me before I completed the action, slowly pressing my lips into his. They were a bit rough, and tasted of blackberries-- he had messily snacked on them after we ate dinner. The scent of his skin was another thing to comment on: the sweet scent of vanilla, probably from the soap. This whole kissing thing was easier to do than I thought-- once I was in, I couldn’t stop. Maybe that wasn’t so good. Alistair started to massage my lips with his, me almost being overwhelmed by the sensual affair. I had to stop. I wasn’t ready for this. Not while I was still broken.

I pushed myself away from him, my breathing turning heavy but still being able to have a grasp on it, however wavering it was. I looked downwards, biting my lips and brushing a hand under my bottom one. I couldn’t speak.

Alistair was shaken. “W-... what’s wrong? Did I do something? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush anything--”

I uneasily shook my head as he spoke. “N-no, it was perfect, I just… I’m not well, Alistair. Besides, we don’t know even know where our futures will take us…  either of us can die on this journey, just like you said earlier. I don’t know-- maybe we don’t even have a future…”

It seemed like Alistair wanted to reach out for me, opening his palms and flexing his fingers to close them. “No-- please don’t say that. Please don’t already set me up to lose you--” he finally took each of my hands into his, “--you’re the only person that’s giving me any clarity through all this uncertainty and darkness, _please_."   


I found myself gripping him tight, even through my reluctance told me that I wanted nothing to do with the situation. Well, it’s not that I wanted nothing to do with it; it was just at the wrong place, at the wrong time. I had to nip the bud before it got worse. Before I could break this man’s heart and all the unwarranted love that came with it. 

“I…” I let my hands ease off his. “I can’t do it, Alistair. I can’t live up to that. And you deserve better for it. Maybe the senior Wardens had the right idea of being so cold. They were trying to avoid this.” 

“Y-you know, I remember us talking about exactly that...” The cracks in his voice told me he was on the verge of tears. “Outside of my tent in Ostagar, about how Duncan carried all the weight on his shoulders. How it  _ ruined _ him. How we weren’t going to perpetuate that cycle ourselves. How we’d be there for each other, for anything and everything. I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you anymore… I need to just… step away from all this.” 

Alistair shambled away out of the tent, the flap closing behind me as an indication that he was gone. I collapsed into the bedroll underneath me, laying in the same position I saw him in earlier. Well, I guess I got what I wanted. The damage was already done-- I couldn’t do anything more. Nice victory at self-sabotage, Samile. You just threw away one of the only people who believed in you the most and didn’t view you as totally naive. Not only that-- you broke his heart. 

A few moments later, Leliana lifted open the flap and peered in at me. She must’ve saw Alistair storm off. Great. Without a word, she sat in front of me, waiting for me to speak.

I sat up, only closing my eyes and shaking my head as a response. Leliana hugged me, sending another batch of tears coming my way. I only let a few of them fall as I dug my head into her shoulder. 

“What happened, love?” Leliana whispered.

“Me,” I responded through my tears. “I happened.” 


	22. The Maker's World And The Bastard Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally arrive to Redcliffe after five days after passing Ferelden's two major lakes, Lake Luthias and Calenhad, having stimulating discussion with your companions in-between. As you arrive, Alistair decides to pull you aside...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm just gonna say... Samile SNAPPED.

After Leliana calmed me down, I felt exhaustion wash over me. I had shed too many tears, all in a few hours’ worth. She offered me a few affirming words, claiming that “Things will start to look up from here,” and “You never know what the future has in store for you.” She left me to rest, just before Alistair came back and plopped onto the bedroll next to me. He didn’t say a word-- not even a goodnight. I deserved it. We slept with our backs turned through the whole night, unable to even look at each other. He surely despised me now. Thankfully, I fell asleep rather swiftly, so I didn’t have to think about it.  ****  
** **

Then the nightmare came. I found myself hovering over a stone bridge overlooking a sea of fire-- no, torches. They were held by a sea of darkspawn, rather. The stone bridge seemed similar to what I’ve heard of the architecture of Orzammar, where the darkspawn factually resided. My view shifted to the inside of the horde, among the varying classes of seemingly endless darkspawn. Above them stood something on the bridge, what I assumed was the tainted Old God… the _ archdemon. _ ****  
** **

Visions of its’ scaly, blighted face clouded my vision like afterimages as it stood, almost staring at me. It roared, a grand stream of fire rocketing out of its’ mouth and spraying over me. ****  
** **

I woke up in an entirely different position than when I first slept. I wiped my hands over the entirety of my face, eventually resting them on my chin. I felt Alistair’s presence behind me as my back was still turned. I flipped over, seeing him wide awake and sitting upright, shirtless. He was obviously as exhausted as I was, his eyes bloodshot and unshaven beard starting to develop. He looked over at me with a sideways glance. ****  
** **

“Bad dreams, huh?” Alistair spoke, his voice lacking any smoothness. ****  
** **

I sat up, mildly disoriented. “It seemed so real…” ****  
** **

“Well it is real, sort of.” He stretched his arms outward and yawned before slumping down again. “As you know, being a Grey Warden is being able to hear darkspawn. That’s what your dream was. Just hearing them on a larger scale.” ****  
** **

I brushed my hair back from my fringe, feeling the growing stray hairs and unrest in the curls. Damn me for sleeping without a silk or satin pillowcase. I took Leliana’s hair tie out, freeing my hair from its’ ornate restrainer and throwing it down beside me.  ****  
** **

Alistair stared at me before he went on, to my growing unease. “The archdemon, it… ‘talks’ to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That’s how why we know this is really a Blight.”  ****  
** **

“That dragon… I had the same dream of it after I woke up from the Joining. I could’ve told everyone.”  ****  
** **

Alistair shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. If King Cailan and Teyrn Loghain neglected to even prepare for its’ arrival or even listen to  _ Duncan,  _ they surely wouldn’t listen to a freshly inducted Warden.”  ****  
** **

I quietly sighed, resting my elbow on my leg and carrying my head with a propped hand.  ****  
** **

“But anyway, it takes a bit, but eventually you can block some of the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can’t. Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing about, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too.” ****  
** **

“Nice to know. Thank you.” ****  
** **

“That’s what I’m here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners. But you’re up anyhow, right? Let’s pull up camp and get a move on.” He seemed to be… amicable enough. Honestly, I wanted him to shout at me. To be just as crossed as he could. He was too kind for that, though. ****  
** **

“Pull up?” I looked around the tent. The soft, golden light of dawn started to pierce through its’ fabric, signaling that the sun was about to rise soon. I guess neither of us slept long… ****  
** **

Alistair didn’t respond, but I don’t think he was ignoring me on purpose. He was already in the process of tugging his sweater over him, his head popping out of the collar in a matter of seconds. I was pretty much dressed, only now needing my boots and my outfit. The sound of Mouse’s echoed barking made me tense up. I looked to Alistair with my eyebrows furrowed, him having the same expression as he looked back at me. It could’ve been a bandit or a thief… Mouse would utterly annihilate them if we didn’t intervene. On instinct, we both got dressed as fast as possible, picking up our weapons and zooming out of the tent.  ****  
** **

The merchant and his son from the Imperial Highway stood beyond our tents with his wain of supplies. Upon noticing our presence, they waved, also being seized by Mouse. A wave of relief passed over me as my body slumped down. Alistair sighed, releasing his tense grip on his sword and shield.  ****  
** **

“Ah, it’s good to see you, our timely rescuers! Bodahn Feddic at your service once again,” he yelled over the flowing waves of the stream beside us. “I saw your camp and remembered the kind offer you made the last time we met, and is there anywhere safer for a poor merchant and his son to sleep? I think not. I’m perfectly willing to offer you a fine discount for the inconvenience of our presence. How does that sound? Good? Yes?” ****  
** **

I looked at Alistair to get his opinion, to which he replied with a shrug. “It’d be convenient, wouldn’t it?”  ****  
** **

I’m not sure I would’ve been able to properly refuse anyway, as we had just woken, but I guess he was right. “...Alright. Just mind yourselves, I suppose. What do you have in your stock?” ****  
** **

Bodahn beamed. “Anything, everything… but all of the finest quality. No cheap trinkets here. And my boy Sandal happens to be a bit of a hand with enchantments, oh yes.”  ****  
** **

I wasn’t surprised. Dwarves were known in Ferelden to have a masterful grasp on enchanting, besides mages. They could handle raw lyrium and work enchantments into whatever they desired, and luckily for them, the supply of lyrium was endless in Orzammar’s depths. I believe the Circle even traded with them occasionally. Not sure why they were above ground, though…  ****  
** **

“Sadly, it also makes us a target for bandits and the like,” Bodahn continued. “If there were spare hands to hire as guards, I would have done so long ago. But anywho, where are you off to now?” ****  
** **

“Redcliffe,” Alistair answered.  ****  
** **

“Oh, that’s a little ways from here, isn’t it? I’ve heard some strange goings on from the village, talks of undead creatures rising from the lake, or something like that. Take my information with a grain of salt, though.” ****  
** **

“Huh.” Alistair tongued the inside of his left cheek, shaking his head soon after. “I guess we’ll find out what’s really happening when we arrive.”  ****  
** **

I stared up at the waking sun, slowly shifting my eyes to the glimmering, almost golden stream. Yawning, I mentally braced for the next five or four days of travelling. Mouse stood beside me as she stared out into the stream with me. I think she knew it too.  ****  
** **

“Sorry I didn’t let you sleep in the tent with us, girl,” I apologized to Mouse, scratching behind her ears. She nestled into my side as if she accepted my apology.  ****  
** **

Everyone else woke up shortly afterwards, Morrigan being resentful at her lack of sleep and making sure to loudly announce it to the entire camp. It wasn’t long before we were able to pack up whatever we had back into the sack and hoist it up onto Bodahn’s wain. I’m glad we had all the extra manpower around-- eight of us now. Within a half hour, we were back on the trail to Redcliffe, planning to pass Lake Luthias. We were able to pass it in two days, now on a mountain trail overlooking the lake's place in the Hinterlands.  ****  
** **

Me and Leliana sat together as we the viewed the lake below us, the party having decided to take a short break before we moved on. We were both entranced by the way Lake Luthias echoed everything above its’ crystal clear waters and mirrored it seamlessly.  ****  
** **

“Oh, it’s just breathtaking, Samile! This is what travelling is supposed to be…” Leliana marveled.  ****  
** **

“And to think, this is only a mere piece of the puzzle that is Thedas,” Morrigan remarked, standing to Leliana’s side as she gazed out into the whole of the Hinterlands with us.  ****  
** **

“Yes, exactly! This is only a piece of what the Maker’s world has to offer us.” Leliana looked up at Morrigan. “I’m wondering, Morrigan… do you believe in the Maker?”   


Morrigan took a sideway glance at her, making me fear for the worst regarding her response to Leliana’s question. “Certainly not. I’ve no primitive fear of the moon such that I must place my faith in tales so that I may sleep at night.” ****  
** **

I could see Leliana frown. “But this can’t all be an accident. Spirits, magic, all these wondrous things around us both dark and light. You know these things exist.” ****  
** **

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “That fact of their existence does not presuppose an intelligent design by some absentee father-figure.”  ****  
** **

“So it all random, then? A happy coincidence we are all here?”  ****  
** **

“Attempting to impose order over chaos is futile,” Morrigan horizontally waved her hand in the air towards the land below us, “nature is, by its very nature, chaotic.” ****  
** **

“I don’t believe that. I believe we have a purpose. All of us.”  ****  
** **

Morrigan started to walk away. “Yours, apparently being to bother me.”  ****  
** **

Leliana began to stare back at the lake. “No matter. It is not my mission to change other people’s minds. I can only inspire something if they are open to it.” ****  
** **

“You’ve changed my mind,” I admitted to her. I felt like a coward for not defending her in the moment. “Maybe not about the Chantry as a whole, but faith as a concept, definitely.” ****  
** **

Leliana smiled at me. “I’m glad I could. I do realize, however, that there are some persisting problems with the Chantry and the way it regards mages… even other faiths for that matter.”  ****  
** **

“Mmm. I actually meant to ask you something earlier-- how was life in the Chantry cloister?”   


Leliana stared back into the lake, sitting in a sidesaddle position. “Quiet, much like this. It was a life suited for contemplation. In the cloister, away from the fuss and flurry of the cities, I found peace. And in that stillness, I could hear the Maker.” ****  
** **

I tilted my head. “Hear the Maker?” ****  
** **

She nodded. “But it was not perfect. Some of my Chantry fellows were condescending. That is the nature of religious folk, I suppose.” ****  
** **

“That’s just how they are.” I knew exactly what type of attitudes she’s seen. The zealous priests who claim that the Andrastian faith is above all else, the priestesses that look down at poor folk in need and just shake their heads at their anguish. The templars who take children away from their families and raise them in a tower isolated from all of Ferelden. ****  
** **

“Unfortunately so. When I talked about my beliefs-- that the Maker reveals Himself in the beauty of His world-- they… treated me with disdain. They want to believe that He is gone, so that when He turns His gaze on them, it means they are special-- chosen. He cannot possibly have love for all-- the sick and weary, the beggars and the fools…” ****  
** **

I shook my head in discontentment. “All of it is so… performative. Dominating. I much rather prefer your ideas to the Chantry’s.” ****  
** **

“Thank you-- I can agree. Maybe I am wrong, but it is the Maker’s place, and the autonomy He has graced me with to live, to decide if I am worthy-- not men. Not the Chantry. But there is work to be done-- we have talked enough for now.”   ****  
** **

“Right.” We both sat up, simultaneously dusting off our clothes and walking back the group.  ****  
** **

Alistair sat on the edge of Bodahn’s wain in conversation with him and Sandal, Mouse sitting between his legs and being lovingly stroked by him. He looked at me with a weak smile as Leliana and I walked back, me flashing a smile of the same degree back. I… nevermind. All I could ask for at this point is that he wasn’t upset with me. Sten was in unexpectedly pleasant conversation with Morrigan, but I suppose they weren’t a totally odd pair.  ****  
** **

“...that’s what I heard on the road, anyway. Take it for what it is,” Bodahn ended.  ****  
** **

Alistair chuckled, making my heart skip a beat as I heard his familiar laugh. Stop it. “You seem to have a lot of those up your sleeve. How do you know all of this?”  ****  
** **

“Let me tell you this, as a merchant, you’re nothing without connections or a simple network. That’s how I’ve amassed all of things I have in my possessions today.”  ****  
** **

“Huh. That makes sense.” ****  
** **

“We are ready to keep travelling, that is if you are all ready and willing,” Leliana announced, quickly getting the attention of the four.  ****  
** **

“Hmm,” Alistair looked up at the noon sky, “we probably should. Three days left.”  ****  
** **

The next three days comprised of crossing the mountain trail, going through a freshly abandoned village still rank with darkspawn, and even more valleys and dirt paths before we reached Lake Calenhad, the likeness of the Circle Tower distant in our sights. Obviously, I felt nostalgic and a bit homesick. Maybe I could escape away for a while and visit the First Enchanter, if he was well. No, it’d be too risky, and I wouldn’t make it on my own. ****  
** **

“This is your home, Warden?” Sten spoke to me as we passed, staring at me with his violet eyes. They were actually quite beautiful.  ****  
** **

“Um, yes. It’s more inviting than it looks when you get inside,” I replied. Me, Sten, and Morrigan lingered behind the party, me mostly taking the opportunity to gaze at my old home. “I haven’t been back for a good month or so.”  ****  
** **

Sten looked up to the peak of the Tower. “Strange. We do not have mages like as you do in Seheron. We have beasts in the shape of men who perform tricks.” ****  
** **

“Really? Is there some sort of variation on spells there?”  ****  
** **

Sten firmly shook his head. “No. We just simply don’t have the sort you do. Our mages are controlled to do less than yours. They have their tongues cut and are kept in pens.” ****  
** **

“Oh…” I was equally as relieved to live among the Circle mages and feel sympathetic towards qunari mages. Anti-magic sentiment permeates throughout the entirety of Thedas, it seems. “Isn’t that… a little harsh? They are still people, the same of us…” ****  
** **

“As a fish stranded by the tide knows the air or a drowning man knows the sea, so does a mage know magic.”  ****  
** **

And just as damning as the Chantry, I see. “And yet everyone continues to manipulate us for their use. Everything is dangerous in excess, Sten.”  ****  
** **

“I can concur with that,” Morrigan announced suddenly. “My feelings must have brushed off on you, Samile.”  ****  
** **

“Well, let me ask you this. Can you have just a little drowning? Some things  _ only _ come in excess. But I can respect your power as equally as I can say the fact,” Sten argued.  ****  
** **

“Sure.”  _ Fact.  _ As if anything is a fact in this world. Culture constantly evolves and changes through time-- how can anyone be so stuck on viewing something one way and never changing their mind about it? ****  
** **

I digressed from the conversation, remembering what Leliana said before:  _ It is not my mission to change other people’s minds.  _ We arrived to Redcliffe Village in no time, perhaps two hours or so. The clouds in the sky lingered throughout the entire day, now being enriched in the sunset’s warm colors. The moon started to poke out beyond them eastward. I hoped Bodahn’s rumors about the undead weren’t true. My stomach sunk as I looked out at the lake beyond the quaint, yet clearly disheveled village.  ****  
** **

Alistair started to linger behind the party, eventually walking by my side. I guess he wanted to talk. I started to hate that word now.  _ Talk _ . The past few days, we barely even spoke to each other. Just the regular, odd small talk and the unintentional conversation we were both grouped in as a result of someone joining the discussion at hand. ****  
** **

“Look, can we talk for a moment?” We both stopped, Alistair having a troubled expression. “I need to tell you something, I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.”  ****  
** **

I guess our “ _ being each other’s lights _ ” and “ _ no hiding secrets”  _ was revoked too. What could it be now? ****  
** **

“...Okay,” I answered. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” ****  
** **

“I don’t know. I doubt it. I’ve never liked it, that’s for sure.” Oh, okay. So he’s definitely not thinking about what I was thinking. I was relieved of the fact, honestly… and maybe also even a bit sad about it. I at least wanted some closure from the other day, and I just wanted us to start over from where we stopped our friendship. That would just have to come later, though. “I think I told you before that Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in?”  ****  
** **

I nodded-- he had explained it to me during our trip to Lothering.  ****  
** **

Alistair scratched behind his neck. “The reason he did that was because… well, because my father was King Maric.”  ****  
** **

I shot my eyebrows up in surprise, making Alistair subsequently cringe. Talk about a secret. Wait, hold on, if King Maric was his father, then that would mean… ****  
** **

“...Which made Cailan my half-brother, I suppose.”  ****  
** **

I placed my fist under my chin. “I knew it. I could’ve sworn you and him looked so much alike, but I thought it was just a coincidence, I… not to be harsh, but… wouldn’t that make you a  _ royal _ bastard?”  ****  
** **

Alistair laughed aloud, to my surprise. I smiled after hearing genuine laughter from him again. “Ha! Yes, I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often. But, I would have told you, it’s just that… it’s never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a threat to Cailan’s rule and so they kept me secret. I’ve never talked about it anyone.” ****  
** **

Except me. I felt good knowing he could still trust me after everything that happened.  ****  
** **

“Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me… even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn’t want you to know, as long as possible, I’m sorry.” The look on his face told me he’d just committed a crime, but it was anything but.  ****  
** **

“I understand.” Or at least I thought I could. No elves really had a place in the hierarchy of a feudal monarchy, so I could only infer on things with a bit of guidance. But, thinking about it subjectively, he must’ve had more of a problem with being put in the spotlight without his consent.  _ That _ I could relate to. ****  
** **

Alistair broke out of his recent expression, now washed over in relief as he sighed. “Good. I’m glad. It’s not like I get special treatment, anyhow. At any rate, that’s it. That’s what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it.”  ****  
** **

I didn’t want the conversation to end there. “But… hold on… can you… at least elaborate on why you kept your birthright as a secret? I’m just curious.” ****  
** **

Alistair pursed his lips and squinted at me anxiously. “You never asked?” ****  
** **

I promptly tilted my head to my right side and squinted back at him. “Nice. I thought we weren’t keeping secrets from each other anymore, Alistair.” ****  
** **

“No, please, don’t think that. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, it’s…” He sighed. “Please, let me try to explain.”  ****  
** **

I gave him the floor to speak, easing back my posture and crossing my arms. He looked at me with a renewed guilt, which made feel bad for just chewing him out. I felt like he should’ve been on the other end. ****  
** **

“The thing is, I’m used to not telling anyone who didn’t already know. It was always a secret. Even Duncan was the only Grey Warden who knew. And then after the battle when I should have told you… I don’t know. It seemed like it was too late by then. How do you just tell someone that?” ****  
** **

I took a brief moment to consider his explanation. “I guess I can understand that.”  ****  
** **

My affirmation didn’t ease Alistair’s guilt. “I… I should have told you anyway. It was important for you to know. I guessed part of me liked you not knowing.”  ****  
** **

“Why? What happens when people find out?” I think I already knew the answer, but I just wanted to hear him say it so we could be on the same page. ****  
** **

“People treat me differently. I become the bastard prince to them instead of just Alistair. I know that must sound stupid to you, but I hate that it’s shaped my entire life. I never wanted it, and I certainly don’t want to be  _ king.”  _ He said the word like it was a curse or an old enemy. “The very idea of it terrifies me.” ****  
** **

Now I really could understand. I wasn’t in the same situation, but I could relate to the idea of people treating you differently because of your background. I was an elf. And a mage. An utter double whammy of hegemonized birthright. “I’m sorry, Alistair. I should definitely know how that feels… you probably don’t get a say in any of the matters either.” ****  
** **

“You can say that again-- and it’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever had a choice in the matter. Right from when I was born, all my choices have been made for me. I guess I should be thankful that Arl Eamon is far more likely to inherit the throne. If he’s alright.” Alistair looked downward, balling his fists. “I hope he’s alright… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I… I guess I was just hoping that you would like for who I am. It was a dumb thing to do.”  ****  
** **

I shook my head. “Of course I like you for who you are-- all your goofiness and your protectiveness and your laughter-- that would never change. Even if you  _ were _ king. We’d still be good friends regardless, especially now that I know you.”  ****  
** **

Alistair smiled as he started to scratch the back of neck again.  _ Don’t put too much on it, Samile _ .  _ Remember what you said about being cold?   _ “I guess it’s kind of a relief that you know now. Let’s go.” ****  
** **

Before he could leave, I wanted to at least tease him. Try to joke with him again. “...As you command, my prince.”  ****  
** **

His eyes glazed over. “Oh, lovely. I’m going to regret this. Somehow I just know it.”  ****  
** **

I smiled to myself as I proceeded to follow him, claiming a victory in getting his reaction. We finally joined ourselves back to the party when a young, tired-looking bowman stopped us before we could cross a bridge to the next valley over. ****  
** **

He looked relieved to see us. “I thought I saw travelers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it. Have you come to help us?”  ****  
** **

I instinctively looked at Bodahn, him staring back at me with a nonchalant expression. “Not to say I was right, but I was right,” Bodahn observed.  ****  
** **

“What’s going on, exactly?” Alistair chimed in.  ****  
** **

“So you… don’t know? Has nobody out there head except the lot of you?” The bowman questioned us. ****  
** **

“We only know that Arl Eamon is sick, I’m afraid,” Alistair glanced at Bodahn, “Everything else is speculation…” ****  
** **

“He could be dead, for all we know. Nobody’s heard from the castle in days. We’re under attack. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack until dawn. Everyone’s been fighting… and dying. We’ve no army to defend us, no arl and no king to send us help. So many are dead, and those left are terrified they’re next.” ****  
** **

“Do you know exactly what this threat is? The works of a maleficar? Blood or hedge magic?” I probed him.  ****  
** **

The young bowman shook his head at me. “I… I don’t rightly know; I’m sorry. Nobody does. I should take you to Bann Teagan. He’s all that’s holding us together. He’ll want to see you.”  ****  
** **

Alistair raised his eyebrows. “Bann Teagan? Arl Eamon’s brother? He’s here?”  ****  
** **

“Yes. It’s not far, if you’ll come with me.”  ****  
** **

The bowman lead us down the valley, all the way to Redcliffe’s only instance of the Chantry-- a small cathedral. As we stepped inside, we were met with the faces of Redcliffe’s broken residents. It wasn’t a cathedral anymore. It was a sanctuary from the threat of the night. The young bowman finally lead us to an older, official-looking man dressed in noble clothing. He had short, brown hair that was braided similarly to King Cailan or Loghain-- a single three-strand braid pushed back his left ear. Upon our arrival, the obvious noble looked over at the bowman. ****  
** **

“It’s… Tomas, yes? And who are these people with you?” Bann Teagan’s eyes swept over our party, most notably at Alistair. If Bann Teagan was reportedly the arl’s brother, he would, presumably, have known him. “They’re obviously not simple travelers.”  ****  
** **

“No, my lord. They just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them,” Tomas spoke. ****  
** **

“Well done, Tomas,” Bann Teagan congratulated him. “Greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the arl.”  ****  
** **

Alistair stepped up. “I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was a lot younger and… covered in mud.” ****  
** **

A half-smile spread on Bann Teagan. “Covered in mud? ...Alistair? It is you, isn’t it? You’re alive! This is wonderful news!” ****  
** **

Alistair nodded repeatedly. “Still alive, yes, though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it.” ****  
** **

“Indeed. Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things.” Of course, if Arl Eamon was Cailain’s uncle, Bann Teagan had to be his second. I was more surprised that he didn’t see eye to eye with the teyrn, however. ****  
** **

“You don’t believe Loghain’s lies?” I asked. ****  
** **

“What, that he pulled his men in order to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory? Hardly.” Anger could barely describe the look on the nobleman’s face. “Loghain calls the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the king. I don’t believe it. It is an act of a desperate man,” he paused, recuperating himself out of his furor, “So… you are a Grey Warden as well? A pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”  ****  
** **

“I can sadly say the same, Bann Teagan.” ****  
** **

“You’re all here to see my brother? Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts.” Bann Teagan started to pace back and forth. “The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil… things… surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault. I have a feeling tonight’s assault will be the worse, yet. Alistair, I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends.”  ****  
** **

“It isn’t just up to me,” Alistair regrettably spoke. “Though the Grey Wardens don’t have much chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon.” ****  
** **

I already made my own decision before Bann Teagan could even ask. “I’ll help.”  ****  
** **

“Me as well,” Leliana chimed in after me. ****  
** **

Morrigan and Sten neglected to respond-- which I half expected. Morrigan eventually said, “How pointless to help these villages fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere.”  ****  
** **

“There are no darkspawn here, and nothing to gain. It is a fool’s errand,” Sten agreed.  ****  
** **

“Why must we help them intending to gain? Isn’t the suffering of these poor people enough to convince you otherwise?” Leliana cried.  ****  
** **

I was fed up with both of their acts. I had to say something. “Listen, Sten, you agreed to stop the Blight with us. Morrigan… I don’t know how you feel at this point, and I’m sorry for not asking earlier. That’s besides the point. What  _ is _ the point is that all of our actions from here will effectively set up how the Blight will tip in our favor. Think of it this way, if we don’t save this village… the arl has no other barricades left to keep this threat from reaching him while he’s still ill. At that point, we won’t have to worry about the village perishing, because all of Thedas will be savagely torn apart under the horde’s assaults from Loghain’s abominable rule! I’m not saying any of you have to agree with me… but if you back out now, that means you don’t care about giving your all to stop this thing. I swear to all of you that Ferelden’s need for opposition will plunge this world into the teeth of the archdemon-- and I’m not having  _ any _ of it. Not while I can still struggle, scream, and kick my way out.” ****  
** **

A silence fell over the cathedral after my outburst, or maybe during. I didn’t care. It felt good, actually. I was tired of being passive about the power struggles I saw in whatever place I laid my eyes upon. I didn’t take the chance to get anyone’s reaction as I turned back to Bann Teagan. He seemed to be a little jolted-- okay, maybe I took it a bit too far... ****  
** **

“Thank you, this… means more to me than you can guess,” Bann Teagan divulged. “Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post.”  ****  
** **

“...Yes, my lord,” Tomas said as he jogged out of the cathedral.  ****  
** **

“Now then. There is much to do before night falls. I’ve put two men in charge of the defense outside. Murdock, the village mayor, is outside. Ser Perth, one of Eamon’s knights, is just up the cliff at the windmill, watching the castle. You may discuss the preparations with them the preparations for the coming battle.” 


	23. Shaking Foundation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The structure of your group is steadily crumbling, and you're not sure what you can do to save it.

Bann Teagan set us on our way after he gave his directives, our party deciding to split up into two groups to talk to each figure he mentioned-- Me, Alistair, and Sten; Leliana, Morrigan, and Mouse. The atmosphere was still touched with by a noticeable tensity, but I still neglected to care. If either of them had a problem, they'd just have to confront me about the matter. Like I said, I wasn't going down without a fight. ****  
** **

As we walked out of the cathedral, Sten made it a point to stop me, deliberately placing himself in front as me as I walked.  ****  
** **

“The Blight-- how will you end it?” Sten questioned me. ****  
** **

“By defeating the archdemon,” I simply answered, not wanting to elaborate more than what I already have. ****  
** **

“Is that all? The archdemon is surrounded by an ocean of darkspawn. How will you reach it? If you do, how will you slay it?”  ****  
** **

“...I don't know. I'd just like to do everything I can stop it.” ****  
** **

Sten scanned me up and down. “You say you are a Grey Warden. I have heard stories of this order. Great strategists and peerless warriors. That is what we hear of the Wardens. So far, I am not impressed.” ****  
** **

“Well, I can say with the utmost honesty that I'm not here to be the sole representation of the order. I'm just working with what's given to me-- I'm not here to impress you.” ****  
** **

“Evidently not. It remains only to see what you  _ are  _ here for.” Sten stood out of my way as he walked towards the village’s commons. ****  
** **

I sighed as I stood on the cathedral’s stone steps. Alistair was already ahead, still staying relatively close to the two of us. I attempted to brush past him before he could speak to me. ****  
** **

“I don't think I've ever seen you so mad in the entire time I've known you,” Alistair stated, to my displeasure. “You might have even made me wet myself.” ****  
** **

I stopped, feeling the ever so late consequences of the outburst. “I'm just… pissed off. I feel like I’m going insane. I think I'm starting to feel how you did back in Lothering.” ****  
** **

“What makes you think I don't feel that way anymore?” Alistair stood in front of me. “Believe me, I still have the rage of a few burnings suns. I just make sure that I keep my exterior nice and tidy.” ****  
** **

I looked downward to avoid staring up at him. “I was doing that for a while, too. Like you said, nothing has been going our way since we left Flemeth’s hut. I'm just tired of being met with resistance at every turn… I'm starting to not care anymore.” ****  
** **

“I know how you feel. But… don't stop there. Maybe we should be angry. Maybe we should kick and scream and shout. That’s how the world turns, right? The start of a revolution?” ****  
** **

I smiled as I met his face again. “You might have the right idea. Is that what we're doing now? Making a revolution across Ferelden?” ****  
** **

Alistair smiled back. “We'll have to if we want to keep Loghain's dirty grip off the throne. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens down the line.” ****  
** **

We began to familiarly stare at each other before I decided to move on, “Yeah… we'll see.” I walked off, mentally poking myself with the needles from the first aid kit. I hoped this wouldn't happen every time we had a decent conversation.  ****  
** **

The square of the village was adorned with ruined wooden fences and stacked furniture. The villagers must've built a barricade out of everything they could grab, even out of their homes. Young warriors trained within the artificial barricade, shooting arrows into mock targets or slicing into sacks filled with grain. Of course they weren’t an official militia. They were young people defending their village out of obligation. Beyond the barricade, an older man with a heavy moustache spoke to a young scout. That must've been Murdock. ****  
** **

“...still no sign of them coming back from the castle, Murdock,” we overheard the scout report. ****  
** **

“Tell them to maintain watch. I don't want a surprise attack before the sun goes down,” Murdock responded.  ****  
** **

The scout feebly saluted. “Yes, ser. What should we do till then?” ****  
** **

“Pray. And hope for a miracle.” After the scout departed from the square, Murdock turned to our presence. “So you're the Grey Wardens, are you? I heard they all died with the king.” ****  
** **

“Gladly, you were wrong. We still exist,” I affirmed. ****  
** **

“So you say. A damned qunari could walk in and say he was a Grey Warden-- I wouldn't know the difference,” Murdock remarked.  ****  
** **

“That much is clear,” Sten added as he stood behind me. ****  
** **

“We aren't going to turn aside anyone who wants to help, though. Don't take me for being an ingrate or nothing.” ****  
** **

“Well, we do want to help however we can,” Alistair glanced to me, “you can trust us.” ****  
** **

Murdock gave a single, firm nod to him. “Name’s Murdock, mayor of what's left of the village-- providing we aren't all killed and hauled off to the castle tonight.” ****  
** **

“Yet you remain calm… have faith. If you made it this far, you can make it another night,” I encouraged him. ****  
** **

Murdock looked uncertain-- which I understood. “I… I hope you're right. I've been trying to hold us together, but it isn't easy. Anyhow, you're here, and you've all offered your service.”

“Just tell us what we need to do,” Sten urged. ****  
** **

“Alright, we need what little armor and weapons we got repaired, and quickly, or half of us will be fighting without either,” Murdock turned to one of the many shacks behind him, “Owen is the only blacksmith who can do it, but the stubborn fool refuses to talk. If we're to be ready tonight, we'll need that crotchety bastard's help.” ****  
** **

“Got it,” I said. “Anything else we can do?” ****  
** **

“We could use some extra bodies. We have a veteran named Dwyn, a dwarven trader. Lives by the lake and locked himself up in his home, saying he didn't need any of us. He would help a lot in the militia, but he flat out refuses to.” ****  
** **

It wasn’t hard to see that every bit of glory that Redcliffe had was now gone. “Who you would suggest going to first?” ****  
** **

“Owen. A man needs a sword in his hand before he strikes.”  ****  
** **

I mentally cringed at the statement. Why do Fereldan men always try to bring up their manhood wherever they can mention it? I guess it didn’t help that I was surrounded by them. I knew I was one too, obviously, but… maybe I'm not much of one as I thought. That sounds fine, actually. I'd have to think about that more…  ****  
** **

Murdock bid us farewell, directing us to Owen's shack. As I walked to it and tried to turn push through with its’ handle, I realized it wasn’t budging.  ****  
** **

“Go away, curse you! Leave me in peace! You’ve already taken everything out of my stores! There’s nothing left!” A voice lamented inside.  ****  
** **

I looked back to the two men standing behind me. “That must be Owen… um, is this Owen, the blacksmith? I need to speak with you!” ****  
** **

“Oh? Who is that? What do you want? I’ve been through enough…” ****  
** **

There was a brief pause as I tried to consider my next words. “...Well, I’d prefer not to speak through a door. Can I come in?” ****  
** **

“Certainly not! I don’t know you and I don’t want to. Off you go.” ****  
** **

Sten grunted before he lightly pushed me aside, bracing himself and immediately kicking the door in. Alistair and I glanced to each other with wide eyes, but the former seemed more like he wanted to laugh. I felt my spirit crack like the door’s frames in spite of the brokenness. We’ll just compensate him later, I guess. We wandered in, seeing a drunken, gray-haired man leaning against a wall in the smithy. The whole entire room reeked of at least a couple week’s worth of ale. I avoided inhaling the bitter scent as much as I could. ****  
** **

“Somebody’s been drinking,” Alistair sung.  ****  
** **

“Stop,” I quietly hissed at him. Drunken men always seemed to come in a variety of rich flavors-- it’d be a bad idea to set him off.  ****  
** **

“You just come barging into my home? I’ve no money and nothing of value to take, as you can plainly see.” Owen stumbled off the wall and over to us, stopping right in front of me. “So if you’re here to beat on an old man, then all I ask is you get on with it. I don’t have much to live for as it is.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Alistair carefully separated Owen from me before I could back away myself. “Too close for comfort.”  ****  
** **

To make matters worse, Sten shoved Owen back and made him stumble even further. “Keep your distance or you’ll get your wish.” ****  
** **

I appreciated their defense, but of course I couldn’t expect this to go over smoothly. “It’s fine, you two. Not much to live for? Why is that?” ****  
** **

Owen shuffled back to his feet. “Can’t say that’s much of your business. I’ll probably be dead when the monsters come here tonight, regardless. If you think you can intimidate me more than them, you’re free to try.”  ****  
** **

“We apologize-- well,  _ I _ will apologize for the intrusion. We meant no offense or harm. Why have you locked yourself in here?” ****  
** **

Owen walked to the anvil in the middle of the smithy, removing a glass bottle from the top of it and sitting in its’ place. He dipped his head as he sat down. “My girl, Valena, is one of the arlessa’s maids and she’s trapped up there in the castle, but the mayor won’t send anyone for her. She’s been my life since my wife passed two years ago. Now she’s dead or soon to be. I don’t care about what happens to me, to the village, or anyone.” ****  
** **

My eyes shifted upwards as I tried to figure out a way to breathe life back into this poor man. Well, soon enough we would have to go the castle anyway… why not just offer to search for Valena?  ****  
** **

“You can still work to save her,” I tried to inspire him. “We’re getting into that castle one way or another. You just need to support the militia so that can happen.” ****  
** **

“I’m an old man. Everyone knows we aren’t making it through the night.” Owen looked up at me. “Or are you going to save us?” ****  
** **

I looked straight back at him. “Yes. I am. And you’re all going to save yourselves, too.”  ****  
** **

Owen’s eyes were narrowed, and his eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Maybe it’s the drink talking, but you almost sound like you believe that… it’d do me a world of good to think maybe someone like you could go in and find her… provided any of us live through the night.” ****  
** **

“So, you’ll do it? Work to get her back?” ****  
** **

Owen stood up from the anvil. “If you’ll look for Valena, I’ll re-open the smithy and make some repairs for the militia. I can do that much.” ****  
** **

I nodded. “Consider it done.” ****  
** **

Owen shook his head madly and looked at me with harsh eyes. “Not good enough. Murdock said the same damned thing and I didn’t believe him, either. I want a promise. Promise me that you’ll look for her, that you’ll bring her back if you can.” ****  
** **

“I promise. We’ll find her.”  ****  
** **

“I know the castle like the back of my hand. It’s a promise,” Alistair added. ****  
** **

“...I accept that. It’s something to hope for, at least,” Owen said. ****  
** **

“Is this a promise we’ll not keep?” Sten spoke, now testing my patience again. Well, it’s not like I could fight him. I knew better. ****  
** **

Owen looked at Sten as if he just came into the room. “What’s this?”   


Sten pointed at him. “I said nothing to you, human.”  ****  
** **

“Oh. Right, then.” Owen staggered around for a moment, picking things up, throwing them away or putting them back where they supposed to be. He muttered to himself, “It seems I have some work to do... re-lighting the forge and I suppose I’ll have to find some iron… hmm, maybe at the mill?”  ****  
** **

I motioned for the three of us to leave before Owen stopped his muttering and turned back to us. “Bah, Murdock just better send his men here as soon as possible if I’m gonna get to all repairs and get them done by nightfall. If you need anything done… well, just let me know. I’ve got a lot to do now, so you’ll have to excuse me.” ****  
** **

I looked at Sten, still dressed in commoner clothing and having no discernible weapon-- his eyes shifted to me as I observed him.  Then, I looked at Alistair’s blackened shield and dulled blade. I was about to check myself, but then I realized I was barely going to be in the front lines. They needed it, not to mention I didn’t really have anything that I needed to repair, at least not with a blacksmith’s hands. I’d have to go for Sandal for that. ****  
** **

“These two will definitely need your help,” I replied.  ****  
** **

I think I saw Sten lighten up for the first time. “...Make the blade two-handed, if you will.” 

* * *

**Morrigan**

Apparent to us now, Ser Perth waited at the summit of the village’s second hill, the village’s representative castle overlooking it from afar. How comical ‘tis that the rest of my trusted companions assigned me with the two I would rather not be around, to put it lightly. Our target idled around the summit with his fellow knights monotonously outfitted in the same glinting, silver armor. ‘Twas quite pleasing to the eye, to be rather honest. ****  
** **

Ser Perth took notice of our arrival and trooped over with no delay. “Greetings… I am as relieved as Bann Teagan is to see you here. I must admit I do not quite know how to address either of you. Is ‘my lady’ sufficient?”  ****  
** **

“You may call me Leliana, and this is Morrigan,” Leliana spoke for both her and I. “The mabari’s name is Mouse, if you’d like to involve her in the discussion.”  ****  
** **

I inwardly squirmed at her attempt to flatter the knight. It seems that the entire village was quickly told of our presence. The desperation was clear, if they had readily taken whatever assistance was offered to them. Leliana or Samile should wish not to see the village waste away in the same state we found it, if they were to defend it so adamantly.  ****  
** **

“Although mabari hounds are an intelligent breed, I do not know if their skill in speaking words is up to par. But, I am Ser Perth--”    


“We are aware. Your mayor informed us of your label,” I briskly interrupted before he could go any further.  ****  
** **

“O-oh. I see. Ah, well, with women of your… stature, perhaps not all is lost.” It was amusing to hear him stumble over his words. I would rather take the stumbling over the character of a brash fool, however.  ****  
** **

“What can we do for you, Ser Perth?” Leliana queried. ****  
** **

“We have sufficient armor and weapons, but my knights are too few to stand against monsters without assistance,” Ser Perth explained. “Perhaps you can approach Mother Hannah in the cathedral for some holy protection against these evil creatures?” ****  
** **

Of course it would be that I was stuck playing the role of holy messenger-- not even the most sacred wind chime or blessed talisman would help these poor fools! If this village were to live throughout the night-- through midnight, even-- I would have to take its’ security into my own hands. Leliana could handle whatever devout responsibilities the knight’s request demanded on her own… as for the hound, I suppose she would have to follow, lest the residents in the chantry raise arms against for her making a commotion. ****  
** **

“Consider the Maker already guiding your every move,” Leliana obliged, almost like clockwork.  ****  
** **

We left the knights to their… duties, and traversed across the bridge and pathway leading down to the village square. I already planned what I needed to before we could come back-- find some form of alternative defense that would make these nightly creatures swim back to the depths from whence they came. I would have to leave Leliana’s side regardless, but I wanted to at the very least explain my rationale for doing so. ****  
** **

I sighed outwardly as I stopped in my own tracks. “I will implore you to react to this rationally, Leliana. These blessings will not save these people from their fates, so I will find what the village truly needs-- a sturdy line of defense, or something like it.” ****  
** **

Leliana stood to me with her hands bound across her stomach. “That is fine, Morrigan. I understand now that we both have… very different ways of thinking. And it would only be troubling for us to only clash over them, no?” ****  
** **

A pleasant, yet unexpected surprise… “Yes, it would. I… thank you for your understanding.”  ****  
** **

“Of course.” Her newly formed smile unnerved me. “In spite of Samile’s… I guess you can say, displeasure, I found something to consider… we should all do what we can to stop the Blight. Even if it’s unconventional. Maybe that’s even what he was trying to get across.” ****  
** **

“If we are to take your idea, ‘twould be a worthy assertion, but unconventionality can breed uncertainty. Uncertainty, in part, can create indecision. And indecision is a waste of time in a land that has none of it.” ****  
** **

Leliana pursed her thin lips before she spoke once more. “I know… but isn’t everything uncertain in these dark times? We should try to wade through this darkness however we can… and that is why we must decide to do things however we may.” ****  
** **

The most compelling deliberation I have ever had the fortune to take part of, especially with one of her kind. I reflected back to my mother, and how she so quickly made sure to send me off with those two bumbling Wardens. Perhaps this was her way. Her way of forcefully making me wade through the Blight’s darkness and its’ suffocating deepness. She would never tell me directly, but she also was not here to explain her course of action. I would just have to sit on the idea for now-- this village would crumble in the night if we did not move swiftly.  ****  
** **

“That may be. For now, I must take my own path. I will… keep the hound as company, for now.” ****  
** **

“Oh, okay. I will see you two later, then.” Leliana departed from the two of us and into the cathedral, leaving me to stand in the village’s square. ****  
** **

I stood with my hands placed on my hips, gazing around the square’s sickly and feeble image. Speaking of the hound, where did she scurry off to? I spun myself around to find the eponymously-named Mouse walking to the shacks ahead, scrunching her nose as she sniffed the ground beneath her. These breeds were supposedly bred to be intelligent, yet all they do is upset intelligent people-- me. As I intended to collect her, she stared back at me with a strange knowingness, running along as she did so. Either she has found something of use or is purposefully antagonizing me…

* * *

**Alistair** ****  
** **

After getting Owen back onto his feet, the three of us ended up asking Murdock for directions to the dwarven veteran-- Dwyn, I think it was. His cabin was apparently at the end of all the others, and stood just above the lake. Perfect for someone who wanted to isolate themselves. We walked on the bridge’s aged, yet still compact wooden boards. I listened to them creak and whine through the combined weight of our tiny party. I remember I used to do leaps and come down as hardest as I could to see the whole foundation of the bridge just shake… it was one of the only times I could be a child and do normal things that children do. I did that a  _ lot _ though-- hopefully it wouldn’t come down under us. ****  
** **

I still remembered Donall talking about for the Urn of Sacred Ashes-- even if we did save the village, another trial would just be ahead of us. The thought of meeting Eamon after everything… I’d be a liar if I said my stomach was the only thing turning inside me. Would he be angry at me? Would he even be healthy enough to champion for us? Whatever, I wouldn’t have to think of it until we met him. Just remain at that. Focus on the present and what we have to do in the moment. Oh, who am I kidding, I’m only saying that so I don’t have to hold myself responsible… ****  
** **

And not only that, but the structure of our party was breaking apart. All the numbers of daily disputes and the growing hostility-- even me and Samile weren’t talking like we used to. Well, we did have the one conversation in the square, but he was just being tolerable, I think. Probably because I made that mistake and turned him off. Wait, not turned off-- probably the wrong word, but… I just knew he wasn’t pleased with me. All of those things I said to him when I should’ve made my support clear to him while he poured out his heart… all because of my stupid hurt feelings.  ****  
** **

I watched him knock at the door of Dwyn’s apparent home and proceed to twiddle with the ring on his finger after. For a moment, he looked out into the vastness of Lake Calenhad. He must’ve been homesick-- or maybe he wasn’t. I think it was beyond me to ask.. Sten only stood in place with an unreadable expression. I couldn’t even imagine what  _ he _ had going through his mind. Most likely that we could be doing “real work” somewhere else. ****  
** **

We waited for more than a couple of minutes for anybody to answer. And it didn’t seem like anybody was going to, either. ****  
** **

I heard Samile sigh under his breath. “Well, I don’t want to just barge in like we did last time. But the village needs everything it can get. Ah… Sten, just do it… please.”  ****  
** **

I guess he’s really pulling out all the stops to save it! Samile easily stood aside and let Sten work his own magic. This time, he only kicked in the door handle. Sten lead first, swinging open the door and meeting three grunt-looking men.  ****  
** **

“Wonderful. Intruders. I hope you’ve a good reason for breaking and entering into my home,” the dwarf in the middle said, clearly being Dwyn. He looked decent enough for a veteran who was supposedly isolating himself from the entire village, I’d say. ****  
** **

“Our apologies. Let’s just say that no seems to be answering our summons, if you can understand,” Samile quickly explained.  ****  
** **

“Apology accepted.” Thankfully we didn’t have to be worried about breaking down people’s doors, for Andraste’s sake. “The name’s Dwyn, pleased to meet you. Now get out.” ****  
** **

“Please, just consider helping the village tonight. Murdock asked for your help.”  ****  
** **

“So, what? You’re recruiting for him? I’ll tell you what I told Murdock: I’m not risking my neck for this town.” 

Heh, I don’t feel so bad about our damaging his property now. We probably didn’t even need his help anyhow, we had  _ two _ mages on our side, and now we had Owen repairing whatever we needed. This was just all excess.  ****  
** **

“These men are clearly too bothered with being self-concerned survivalists. Your commitments to your duties are exchanged with meaningless lives-- ones where you only wander through the flames while everyone else burns behind you,” Sten abruptly announced. I had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about Dwyn and his fellows-- it seemed like he was talking to everybody in the room.  ****  
** **

“I’ll take my chances. Everyone else can run around in the open, waiting to die,” Dwyn challenged. ****  
** **

I could feel my temperature rise through my cheeks.  _ Say something, Alistair!  _ “Just forget it, Samile. They clearly don’t have any empathy for these villagers.”  ****  
** **

Samile shook his head and left without anymore pleas. I followed him from behind while Sten did the same, slamming the door shut. I thought I could actually hear the frame of it fall, but I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of looking back, so I didn’t. A petty, but effective exit. 

I picked up the pace as he stomped through the bridges between cabins. Maker, I never thought anyone could walk so fast.  ****  
** **

“Samile,” I called out him. Surprisingly, he listened to me, but the look on his face told me that he wanted to keep moving. “We’ll be fine. Owen is working on the repairs and Leliana and Morrigan are doing whatever they need to. Redcliffe  _ will _ be saved tonight.” ****  
** **

“Look at yourselves. You are representatives of an order that act like it is not beyond you,” Sten commented. That hurt a little. “If I did not know any better, it would be that I thought you both as children carrying a staff and a sword and shield.” ****  
** **

“Then what do you suggest, Sten?!” Samile raised his voice. ****  
** **

“The solution is simple. Act like you are both within your ranks.”  ****  
** **

Samile’s jaw was clenched as he glared at Sten. “...I need some time to think. I’ll be back before nightfall.”  ****  
** **

“What? No, we’re not leaving you alone, not after--” He already started to leave before I finished my sentence. ****  
** **

“Feel free to follow him if you find yourself affected by my counsel,” Sten said as he walked in the same direction of Samile. “Otherwise, the blacksmith will be ready at any moment.”  ****  
** **

After they both left, I stood on the wooden bridge, unsure of who to follow-- that was a lie. I knew exactly who I wanted to follow. Out of frustration, I messily ran my hands through my hair and kept them clasped behind my neck.  _ Get a backbone and follow him. _


End file.
